


Someone You Love(d)

by InterstellarBlue (nagi_schwarz)



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/InterstellarBlue
Summary: Photographer Park Jinwoo gets into an extended exchange of mis-delivered packages with someone from an office with nearly the same address as his, someone who is Cha Eunwoo superfan. Or an architect named Kim Myungjun. Who, despite kicking Jinwoo in the shins, is really cute.Featuring hapless delivery boy Sanha, annoying cousin and fellow photographer Minhyuk, superstitious photographer boss Kihyun, superstar Cha Eunwoo, superstar Moon Bin, grilled pork at a street vendor, drinks at the noraebang, street busking, matchmaking, and Jinwoo trying to be a good friend (and not the rebound guy).
Relationships: Kim Myungjun | MJ/Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo, Kim Myungjun | MJ/Park Jinwoo | Jin Jin, Park Minhyuk | Rocky/Yoon Sanha
Comments: 30
Kudos: 66
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020, K-pop and K-drama AUs





	Someone You Love(d)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WannaBeYourEunwoo (SherlockianSyndromes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/gifts).



> Written for the AU comment_fic prompt: "To Be Continued, any, office AU"
> 
> And based on the plot of the Urban Zakapa/Soyou MV for [The Space Between](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zgVHtDY24t8)
> 
> So much gratitude to the inimitable Brumeier for her beta work and support.

“Package for you,” the delivery boy said.

Jinwoo looked up and smiled. “Thanks, Sanha.” He accepted the box, signed for it, and opened it.

Two seconds later, he realized he didn’t remember ordering anything, and no one had told him to expect any kind of deliveries. Maybe it was a surprise. Even though Jinwoo had been living on his own since high school, his mother worried about him a lot, and sometimes she’d send him gifts of food or clothes if she thought he was going without for whatever reason.

But she usually had those things delivered to his apartment, not his office.

Jinwoo pawed aside the crumpled brown packing paper. There was a desk calendar - that was the kind of practical thing his mother would send him. Only -

Only it was a picture calendar. For Cha Eunwoo, the actor and singer.

Jinwoo stared. He knew his mother liked to watch dramas, and she was trying to be accepting of the fact that he was gay, but he’d never talked to her about liking boys.

Ever.

Beneath the calendar was a stack of DVDs still in the shrink wrap. All of them were for dramas. That Cha Eunwoo was in. There was a photobook and a stack of photocards so thick that it could have been a regular deck of cards. Jinwoo spread the items across his desk with growing horror.

“What’s this?” Minhyuk asked. He peered at Jinwoo’s desk. “Ha - you have a crush on Cha Eunwoo?”

Jinwoo looked up sharply. “What? Me? No!”

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows. He was Jinwoo’s cousin and had known he was gay long before he’d come out to his parents. “What? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. He’s handsome, if you’re into that whole pale and perfect thing.”

“No! I - I’m sure the delivery was a mistake.” Jinwoo swept everything into the box and shoved it under his desk. “I’ll take care of it later.”

Later he’d call his mother and beg her not to embarrass him like that. Yes he was grateful for her support, but there was support and then there was humiliation. 

Minhyuk smirked and headed back to his own desk. 

Jinwoo peered down at the box of excessive Cha Eunwoo paraphernalia and grimaced. Then he rolled up his sleeves and got back to work.

Ten minutes later, he got an email from a sunbae in the Busan office. Had he received the package of proofs yet? Delivery had been confirmed. 

Jinwoo sent a reply, confused. What package of proofs?

From the recent sports catalog shoot. 

Jinwoo remembered vaguely. He’d been secondary on that shoot. It had been outdoors. He sent another reply. He hadn’t seen any such package. 

As if on cue, his phone buzzed. Text message from an unknown number. 

_Is this 428 Yeoksam-ro? I received a package addressed to you._

Jinwoo typed back, _Yes it is._ Then he grabbed the box from under the table and checked the address. It was for 482 Yeoksam-ro. He texted again. _I received a package for you as well. Shall we meet up to make an exchange?_

_If it’s not too urgent, could we meet after work?_

_After work is fine,_ Jinwoo sent back. Relief spread through his limbs. So his mother hadn’t sent him a bunch of embarrassing Cha Eunwoo merchandise. He’d just had his mail switched with some crazy Eunwoo fangirl.

She was probably the kind of person who spent all her free time huddled in front of her computer watching shaky airport footage and blurry footage from all of Cha Eunwoo’s fan meets on one screen while she constantly played his dramas and music videos on the other. As a result, she was probably quite shy. 

Jinwoo added, _Pick a place to meet and send an address and time and I will be there._

A moment later, he received the address of a nearby park and a cheery, _Thank you! See you later!_ The message was accompanied by several bright and flowery smiley emoticons. 

Definitely some kind of crazy fan girl. She was probably fresh out of university and at her first job. 

Jinwoo saved her number under _Cha Eunwoo’s Fangirl_ and then got back to work. He emailed his sunbae to let him know about the mail mixup but that he’d sorted it out and he would pick up the proofs later. 

“So,” Minhyuk said, pausing beside his desk with a mug of coffee, “going to binge on some dramas tonight?”

“No,” Jinwoo said calmly. “There was just an address mix up. I’m going to give the box back to its rightful owner after work and get my own mail.”

“Right,” Minhyuk drawled, and then he went to get a refill on his coffee before he got back to work. 

After work, Jinwoo pulled on his jacket, grabbed his laptop bag, scooped up the box, and headed off on foot to the meeting point with Cha Eunwoo’s Fangirl. 

He kept the box tucked firmly under his arm, because he didn’t want to accidentally spill its contents and have some random stranger think _he_ was some kind of crazy sasaeng Cha Eunwoo fanboy.

The park Cha Eunwoo’s Fangirl had picked was within easy walking distance of the office, so Jinwoo sat down on one of the park benches and put the box beside him and waited. It was a pleasant autumn evening, and the sun was just barely starting to sink toward the horizon and turn the sky different colors. Jinwoo was a photographer by trade, and he was tempted to use his phone to take a picture of the sky.

“Excuse me, are you from 428 Yeoksam-ro? I’m from 482.”

Jinwoo looked up, startled, at the handsome young man standing in front of him. He had a bright, wide smile and pretty eyes. 

The young man held out a padded envelope. “I think this is yours. Do you have mine?” His face lit up, and he looked like an eager puppy.

Jinwoo stared at him. “This is...yours? Is it a present for someone?”

“What?” the other man asked, cocking his head. “No, it’s mine. It’s for me. Why?”

Jinwoo arched an eyebrow and reached into the box, held up the Cha Eunwoo photo book. “You’re a Cha Eunwoo fan, then?”

“So what if I am? He’s beautiful and talented,” the other man said. “You have a problem with gay men?” He jutted his chin out defiantly.

“No,” Jinwoo said. “But - _Cha Eunwoo?_ I mean - you must have spent a fortune on him.”

“Yah!” The other man flung the padded envelope at Jinwoo and snatched the box out of his hands. “He’s worth every penny. He’s beautiful and talented and sweet and kind and I love him. He’s my boyfriend.”

Jinwoo barely managed to catch the envelope. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Your _boyfriend?_ What are you, some kind of crazy sasaeng?”

The other man’s response was to kick Jinwoo in the shin, spin around, and flounce away, box cradled protectively in his arms. 

“Yah!” Jinwoo shouted after him, clutching his leg. “You _are_ a crazy sasaeng!”

 _“Crazy_ and _sasaeng_ in the same sentence are superfluous!” the other man called over his shoulder, and he literally turned his nose up and kept on flouncing.

Jinwoo watched him go, offended and amused all at once. The guy kicked pretty hard. Once the other man was out of sight - he walked very quickly - Jinwoo tucked the envelope into his laptop bag, and he went to catch the bus home.

As he rolled along, he studied his own reflection in the bus window. He was pretty handsome. Cha Eunwoo was overrated. Jinwoo could play the drums, rap, dance, and take really good pictures. He was beautiful and talented.

What did he care what some crazy fanboy thought?

Jinwoo had crushed on attractive celebrities over the years, but he’d never thought of any of them as his boyfriend.

He left the man’s name as _Cha Eunwoo’s Fangirl_ in his phone.

* * *

Jinwoo didn’t think about Cha Eunwoo’s Fangirl until a couple weeks later when Sanha handed him a package he wasn’t expecting. 

“Here you go.” Sanha bowed and smiled, waved, then headed for the door with a bounce in his step. Kid was like an eager puppy.

Jinwoo didn’t miss the way Minhyuk watched Sanha go, or the way Sanha waved and smiled at him before he departed. Then he opened the package, a long cardboard tube, and peered inside. Papers were rolled up quite tightly. Jinwoo turned on his phone flashlight and shone it in, poking at the papers a bit to try to get a look at them.

“Blueprints?”

“What about blueprints?” Minhyuk asked.

“Someone sent me blueprints,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk frowned. “Why would anyone do that?”

Kihyun said, “It’s probably another mis-delivery for the architectural firm down the street.” He didn’t even look up from his camera as he said it.

Jinwoo closed up the cardboard tube and turned it carefully, searching for the address label. Sure enough, it was addressed to a Kim Myungjun, whose address was the same as Cha Eunwoo Fangirl’s. So the man worked at an architectural firm. Was he an architect himself? He’d looked young, younger than Jinwoo, but that didn’t mean much, because most people thought Minhyuk was the older of the two of them even though he was three years younger and hadn’t done his service yet.

“You’re right,” Jinwoo said. He considered sending a text message to Cha Eunwoo’s Fangirl and telling him that he had the man’s package, but then he remembered getting kicked in the shin and the way the man had flounced and he just propped the tube up in the corner and got back to work.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed with a text message from Cha Eunwoo’s Fangirl.

_428? This is 482. Did my package get delivered to your office by mistake again? They say delivery was confirmed._

Jinwoo didn’t answer.

There was another text message.

_428-ssi? Please answer me._

Jinwoo smirked and kept on working.

Minhyuk stopped by on his coffee break, because he never seemed to have anything to do better when he was drinking his coffee.

Jinwoo’s phone buzzed again.

_428-ssi, please! My boss needs those plans ASAP._

Jinwoo turned his phone facedown on the desk and kept on working.

“You’re popular,” Minhyuk said, when the phone buzzed again.

And again.

And again.

Jinwoo said, “Because I’m handsome.”

Minhyuk arched an eyebrow and sipped from his coffee.

Jinwoo said, “Your little brother is prettier than you.”

Minhyuk shrugged and affected nonchalance, then glanced pointedly at Jinwoo’s still-buzzing phone.

Jinwoo said, “You should ask Sanha out on a date.”

Minhyuk almost choked on his coffee.

Jinwoo smiled, pleased with himself, and drew a tally mark in the air.

_Jinwoo: 1, Minhyuk: 0._

The office door flew open, and there he was, Cha Eunwoo’s Fangirl himself. In daylight he was even more strikingly pretty, with high cheekbones and a delicate jawline. He also looked furious. He scanned the office briefly.

“Yah!” He pointed at Jinwoo.

Minhyuk, smirking, scooted away from his desk.

“Good morning, Myungjun-ah,” Kihyun said without looking up from his desk.

Cha Eunwoo’s Fangirl had a real name. Kim Myungjun, as listed on the package delivery label. It suited him. He paused, flashed a bright smile at Kihyun. “Good morning, Kihyun-ah.”

They both spoke to each other informally. Either they’d known each other for a very long time or were the same age. Kihyun was two years older than Jinwoo.

Then Myungjun’s smile vanished, and he stomped over to Jinwoo’s desk. “Where’s my blueprints?”

Jinwoo said, “What blueprints?”

Only Myungjun spotted them. He kicked Jinwoo in the shin, grabbed the cardboard tube, and started for the door.

“I thought it was plans for your dream home with your boyfriend, Cha Eunwoo!” Jinwoo called after him, laughing but also rubbing his shin ruefully.

Myungjun spun around, eyes wide. He hurried back over to Jinwoo. “Not so loud,” he hissed.

Jinwoo shrugged. “My coworkers don’t care if you’re gay. I’m gay. Minhyuk’s gay.”

“Bi,” Minhyuk corrected idly.

“Kihyun is - too busy being perfect at everything to have sex,” Jinwoo said.

“My boyfriend Hyunwoo would disagree,” Kihyun murmured.

Myungjun smacked Jinwoo on the arm. “I don’t care if people know I’m gay. Just - don’t say that so loud.”

“Why? Who would believe you’re actually Cha Eunwoo’s boyfriend? Or are you just trying to protect your _oppa_ from scandal?” Jinwoo laughed.

“First of all D - Eunwoo-ssi is younger than me,” Myungjun said primly. “And second of all, why couldn’t I be his boyfriend? I’m beautiful and talented.”

“I’m a better singer than you,” Kihyun said.

Myungjun tutted at him. “In your dreams.” To Jinwoo he said, “You’re just jealous anyway.”

“Why would I be?” Jinwoo said. “I would never date Cha Eunwoo. Anyway, the point is moot, because he’s not gay.”

Something in Myungjun’s expression darkened for a moment, but then he turned his nose up. “Whatever.” He spun on his heel and left the office.

“You know him?” Jinwoo asked, once the door was shut.

“We did our service together,” Kihyun said. “We’re the same age.”

Jinwoo wondered what Myungjun had looked like, with short hair and a uniform. His hair now was clean-cut but long, looked glossy and soft. Jinwoo supposed that in a uniform, Myungjun had looked just like everyone else, which was sort of the point.

“You’d think the delivery service would stop mixing up packages between our place and theirs by now,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo said, “I’ve noticed an increase in package mis-deliveries since Sanha started.”

“Are you saying he’s stupid?” Minhyuk asked, indignant.

“Not stupid,” Jinwoo drawled. “Just - distracted.”

Minhyuk’s ears turned pink.

_Jinwoo: 2, Minhyuk: 0._

Kihyun said, “Jinwoo’s right. Ask him out already.”

_Kihyun: 1._

* * *

The next few packages that were mixed up between Myungjun and Jinwoo’s office were delivered to Kihyun. Every time Myungjun came to exchange packages, he’d cast Jinwoo a pointed look before he went to speak to Kihyun, as if to say, _See? This is how it’s done properly._

Jinwoo just smiled at him and then offered quiet asides to Minhyuk about how Sanha was more and more distracted these days. Was it because Sanha was nearing his midterm exams at university, or was it because Minhyuk was starting to make more effort with his hair and had taken to wearing cologne?

Minhyuk would just blush and say nothing and had taken to hiding behind his computer monitors whenever Sanha came with a delivery, only daring to poke his head up for a quick peek before Sanha left. Jinwoo was really racking up the points against Minhyuk.

And then one day Sanha brought Jinwoo a small brown cardboard box that was addressed in very neat penmanship. There was no return address. As Jinwoo’s mother had told him to expect a delivery of homemade kimchi at the office because it was a time-sensitive package, he opened it.

There were a bunch of items crammed into the box, none of which were a container of his mother’s best homemade kimchi. On top of a stuffed animal, some clothes, some smaller boxes, and several envelopes, was a fancy portrait of Myungjun. He was wearing a fine tux and smiling at the camera. Jinwoo’s heart stopped. Myungjun was beautiful. 

Then Jinwoo looked at the labeling on the package and realized that he didn’t recognize the handwriting on the box. It had been addressed to Myungjun’s office, but it didn’t have any name on it. Whoever the sender was, they must have assumed Myungjun would recognize the handwriting.

Jinwoo considered texting Myungjun and telling him there’d been another mis-directed package, but then his phone buzzed, startling him, and he jumped. The box started to tilt. Jinwoo swore and tried to catch it, but it tipped onto the floor, its contents scattering.

“Nice job,” Minhyuk said, and he drew an invisible tally score in the air.

Whatever.

Kihyun clicked his tongue disapprovingly and continued editing his latest batch of photos.

Jinwoo rolled his eyes and knelt down, gathered up Myungjun’s items carefully. There was an old t-shirt and a stuffed Pikachu, like the kind that came out of claw machines. There was the lovely framed portrait of Myungjun, a small velvet drawstring pouch like the kind that held jewelry, and then there were - dozens and dozens of selcas of Myungjun. Some of them were old, featured him in a high school uniform. Some were even of him in his military uniform; he’d served in the Air Force. In every one, he was smiling and laughing and flashing peace signs and heart signs. When he wasn’t kicking Jinwoo in the shins and then flouncing off, he was full of light and energy. Jinwoo gathered them up carefully, arranged them into a neat stack and hoped they hadn’t been in some kind of specific order. And then he spotted a picture of Myungjun with - no way. Cha Eunwoo himself. 

“Wow,” Jinwoo said. “He must be some kind of super fanboy, to pay all kinds of money to go to a fan meeting to get his picture taken with his dream boyfriend.”

Cha Eunwoo was handsome, Jinwoo would admit. And he actually liked some of the man’s songs and some of the historical dramas he’d been in. His smile was really bright, too. Not as bright as Myungjun’s, but bright and sweet all the same. Jinwoo flipped through the pictures of the two of them together, amazed and amused and a little appalled. There were so many of them. Myungjun must have been a fan since Eunwoo’s debut. Maybe Myungjun was a homesite master or something. Jinwoo had heard that celebrities learned to have good working relationships with their homesite masters. If Myungjun went to every single fanmeet and fan event, Eunwoo probably recognized him after a while. They were probably good acquaintances, had enough contact that Myungjun could fuel his dreams of being Eunwoo’s boyfriend.

Jinwoo flipped to the next picture and froze.

It was of Eunwoo kissing Myungjun on the cheek.

That was pretty close for a celebrity and fan, wasn’t it?

The next picture was of Myungjun kissing Eunwoo on the cheek.

The next was of them kissing each other, the image crooked and a bit blurry.

Jinwoo hurriedly shoved those pictures behind the others, heart pounding. No way. Myungjun really _was_ Eunwoo’s boyfriend. He picked up scattered pieces of paper, and he saw that they were cute little handwritten notes with hearts and stars and suns and moons and flowers and kittens and bunnies drawn on them. Jinwoo checked the box, but they didn’t match the handwriting on the box. And then he found the piece of paper that had been folded around the stack of photos.

The handwriting on the paper matched that on the box.

It was a note, addressed to _Myungjunnie._

It was signed, _Love, Dongminnie._

Jinwoo folded it around the photos carefully, didn’t read it, but he couldn’t help but see the word _goodbye._

Jinwoo finished tucking all of the items back into the box with the portrait on top, and he taped it shut, even though it would be obvious he’d opened it. Then he picked up his phone to text Myungjun and tell him that he’d received another misdirected package. He started to type a message, stopped. He fired up the browser on his phone and went searching. It took less than ten seconds to learn something he’d never cared to know before: Cha Eunwoo’s real name was Lee Dongmin.

Giving this to Myungjun in the middle of the day, when he was supposed to concentrate and work hard, would be cruel.

Jinwoo set the box aside and kept working. An hour before his work day was done, he texted Myungjun.

_I have a package of yours. Come meet me at this address and I’ll give it to you._

Myungjun texted back, _Really? Thank you!_

Jinwoo changed Myungjun’s name in his phone from Cha Eunwoo’s Fangirl to Kim Myungjun.

After work, he took the box with him to a small nearby street snack bar where plenty of other working men and women went for grilled pork and soju after work. He waited by the entrance.

Myungjun arrived with a bounce in his step. “Hello! This is a happy surprise. I wasn’t expecting any packages. Maybe it’s a gift? Like early Christmas!”

Jinwoo swallowed hard and held out the box. “I’m sorry. I opened it because I thought it was from my mother. She said she’d be sending me something.”

Myungjun rolled his eyes. “What else would I expect from you?” Then he saw the handwriting on the box, and his eyes went wide. “How much did you see?”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” Jinwoo said. “Look - let me buy you some soju and pork, all right? In apology.”

“I never turn down free food,” Myungjun said. He flagged down the ahjumma who was running the place and asked for a table and two bottles of soju to start. 

As soon as they were at the table and waiting for pork to arrive, Myungjun hummed happily and tore through the tape.

“Maybe you shouldn’t open it here,” Jinwoo said.

“It’s okay,” Myungjun said. “I’m just going to peek. And besides, you already know, so what’s the point in hiding?” He pushed the box flaps aside, and his smile vanished when he saw his own portrait. He lifted it and peered at what was below it. He pawed past the stuffed animal and t-shirt and scooped up the little velvet drawstring bag. He opened it and emptied its contents onto the table.

A silver ring clattered onto the cheap table.

Myungjun stared at it.

Jinwoo noticed he wore a matching one. 

The ahjumma brought them pork with scissors and tongs so they could grill it themselves, and also two bottles of soju and two glasses. Jinwoo opened one of the bottles and poured Myungjun a glass, pushed it toward him.

Myungjun picked the ring up, put it back in the bag, put the bag back in the box, and put the box on the floor at his feet. He thanked Jinwoo for the drink and downed it all in one shot.

Jinwoo expected Myungjun to get rip roaring drunk and cry everywhere and shout and wail and generally be dramatic, because he was a loud, dramatic person. Instead he took control of the pork, cutting it neatly and grilling it. He served Jinwoo first, because he was polite. He asked the ahjumma for some side dishes. And he got steadily drunk on soju.

If Jinwoo hadn’t witnessed just how much of the stuff Myungjun was drinking, he’d never have known the man was drunk, because his hands were precise as he grilled the pork, and he was sweet-voiced, polite as he asked how Jinwoo liked his pork, how long had he been working at the photography firm with Kihyun, had he done his service? The entire time they ate together - Jinwoo didn’t get a chance to drink any of the alcohol - Myungjun was calm and polite, but his expression was completely blank.

After, Jinwoo tried to pay, because he was sorry he’d opened the box, but Myungjun said, “I’ll take care of it. I’m older.” He gathered up his belongings and went to pay the ahjumma.

He left the box by the table.

Jinwoo grabbed it, because it would be bad for strangers to look into the box. He caught up to Myungjun.

“Hey. You shouldn’t leave this. I mean, you can throw it away when you go home or whatever, but -”

Myungjun turned to him, and there was finally a light in his eyes - feverish, too bright. “Want to go to a noraebang?”

Jinwoo’s first thought was, _On a weeknight?_

But then he thought of those pictures of Myungjun, how some were as old as high school, and realized that he was quite possibly the only person in the world who knew about Myungjun’s very long relationship and the fact that it had just ended.

“Sure,” he said. “I’m not a very good singer, though.”

“Don’t worry,” Myungjun said. “I’m a good enough singer for the both of us.”

They hailed a cab to the nearest noraebang, rented a room and ordered a whole bunch more soju, started picking songs. 

_Here it comes,_ Jinwoo thought. _The screaming and the crying and the dramatics._

But instead Myungjun picked up the tambourine and waved for Jinwoo to go first. Jinwoo wasn’t a very good singer, but he was a pretty good rapper, so he picked rap songs that he knew he’d get a good score on. Myungjun was a very enthusiastic partner, cheering and beating his tambourine and dancing beside Jinwoo. 

Jinwoo kept glancing at Myungjun, worried that at any moment he was going to burst into tears and collapse, but Myungjun’s eyes were bright and his smile was bright and Jinwoo figured he’d just go with it. If this was what Myungjun needed, who else could give it to him? Jinwoo did his best, and at the end he got a really good score, and Myungjun jumped up and down and cheered.

“Wow! You’re a really good rapper.”

“Thanks,” Jinwoo said. Rap and liking boys were the two main things he and Minhyuk had bonded over when they were growing up. Minhyuk was a far better singer, though.

Jinwoo handed the microphone over to Myungjun, who cleared his throat and then made a bunch of weird purring noises to warm up his voice. Jinwoo poured two more glasses of soju and picked up the tambourine and braced himself for one of the break-up classics, like Universe by EXO or I Loved You by Day 6.

What came on instead was a loud, fast-paced trot song.

Jinwoo stared as Myungjun came to life, dancing and singing and apparently having the time of his life. Belatedly, Jinwoo backed him up with the tambourine, keeping time while Myungjun performed. He hadn’t been kidding - he had an incredible voice, high and sweet but strong.

When the song was over, Myungjun bowed to his invisible audience, and Jinwoo shook the tambourine and cheered.

“You sing really well,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun preened. “I know. But hey - we can do pop songs together! I’ll sing, you rap. How about it?”

That was how they ended up singing through most of EXO’s back catalog.

Jinwoo had given up drinking alcohol ages ago, but he’d drunk enough that he’d lost track of what Myungjun was drinking.

“All right,” Jinwoo said, after a flawless performance of EXO’s Ko Ko Bop. “One more. We both have to work tomorrow.”

Myungjun nodded. “Okay. Here goes!” He pressed the button to start the song.

Jinwoo rattled the tambourine and said, “Fighting!”

Soft piano music filled the room.

Myungjun began to sing, _The tears won’t stop. You were my first love._

Here it was. The break-up song. It was one Jinwoo had never heard before. He peered at the music video playing in the background, trying to see if he recognized anyone in it.

Cha Eunwoo, maybe nineteen years old, wearing a high school uniform and playing a piano. He’d debuted as a teenager, hadn’t he? Jinwoo remembered that from his brief research on the man.

Jinwoo barely managed to keep up when it was his turn on the rap part, but then he’d never heard this song before, and he was pretty sure Myungjun had forgotten he was there anyway.

The final line of the song was, _Thank you, my first love._

When the music faded, Jinwoo wasn’t sure what to do, whether he should cheer and applaud or what. Myungjun wasn’t hamming it up to his invisible audience like all the other times, just standing there, microphone in hand. Jinwoo went to clear his throat, and then he realized - Myungjun was crying.

No. Oh no. Jinwoo was a sympathy crier. He’d always been the crybaby of his family and his friend groups.

Myungjun sank down to the ground, wrapped his arms around his knees and sobbed quietly. Jinwoo crouched down beside him, put an arm around his shoulders and did his best not to sniffle too loudly.

After a few minutes, Myungjun said, “Are you crying?” He sniffled.

“You’re crying,” Jinwoo mumbled.

Myungjun sniffled again. “My boyfriend of seven years just dumped me. What’s your excuse?”

“I can’t help it. I cry when other people cry.”

That actually made Myungjun laugh.

“Why are you laughing? I’m crying and it’s all your fault.”

Myungjun sniffled and wiped his tears away. “Well, it’s not your fault I’m crying. Thanks for - everything.” He pushed himself to his feet, smoothed his clothes down. “You are a really good rapper.”

“Thanks.” Jinwoo scrubbed at his face, embarrassed. Together, they gathered up their things. “You’re a really good singer.”

“I should hope so, after the time I spent as a trainee.” Myungjun stared at the box that held the remnants of his first love.

“You were a trainee?” Jinwoo asked.

“Dongmin and I were trainees together. It was how we met. But - I wasn’t tall enough or handsome enough, so I got cut.”

“But you stayed together.”

“Somehow, we did. I suppose I should be grateful it didn’t end sooner.” Myungjun picked up the box and cradled it against his chest. “I should be grateful for all the time we did have together. It’s a shame it ended when it did, though.”

“Seven years is a long time.” Jinwoo followed Myungjun out of the noraebang and onto the sidewalk so they could hail separate taxis home.

“I mean his newest drama hasn’t finished airing, and now I’ll never know how it ends, because I’m going to spend the next month refusing to look at his face,” Myungjun said.

“You could always google it.”

“The articles always have pictures,” Myungjun said.

“Ah.” Jinwoo said, “I can find out for you, if you like.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks,” Myungjun said. 

The first taxi arrived. Jinwoo let Myungjun take it, since he lived closer to the noraebang, and besides, he’d had less to drink.

Myungjun bade Jinwoo farewell, and Jinwoo watched his smile fade as he climbed into the taxi. Jinwoo watched the taxi go till its tail lights vanished in the darkness, and then he hailed the next taxi he saw. 

As he headed home, he hoped Myungjun only got happy things in the mail from now on.

* * *

After that, Jinwoo would text Myungjun whenever Sanha mis-delivered a package. Jinwoo asked about it one time, how that happened. Sanha explained that all of the mail for a given place was bundled up, and someone else did the bundling before he hopped on the delivery truck, so if the person doing the bundling got it wrong, Sanha had no clue. He said he’d talk to his coworker about being more accurate about it, but packages still went astray. Jinwoo got used to seeing Myungjun at least once a week. Sometimes packages weren’t mis-delivered but mis-addressed, and after a while they took turns collecting mis-sent mail and visiting each other’s offices to make sure it arrived safely.

Sometimes if Myungjun was excited about a package, he’d text Jinwoo multiple times asking if it had arrived, like an eager child asking if it was time to open presents on Christmas day. Jinwoo entertained his text messages. He had the sense that, for all that Myungjun was bubbly and bright and energetic, he didn’t have much of a social life outside of work. Jinwoo wondered if he’d been so isolated because the most important relationship in his life for seven years had been a secret. After all, any time there was even a hint of a dating scandal for Cha Eunwoo, it was inevitably with a popular female starlet, usually one he’d worked with on a drama.

One day a package arrived on Jinwoo’s desk addressed to _Myungjunnie_ from _Eomma!_ Both names were surrounded by hearts and stars and smiley faces, and Jinwoo thought he knew where Myungjun got his energy and brightness from. Jinwoo scooped up his phone to send a text message - and accidentally hit the call button.

“Hello, Jinjin!”

Myungjun had given Jinwoo the nickname one day, and despite Jinwoo’s protests, it had stuck, to the point where Minhyuk and even Kihyun would use it when they were trying to needle him.

“Ah, Myungjun-hyung. A package came for you.”

“Oh? I wasn’t expecting any packages. What does it look like? Can you send a picture?”

“It’s from your mother,” Jinwoo said.

“Ooh! I’ll come get it right away. Thanks for calling me. You usually text me, but it’s nice to hear your voice once in a while. Be right there!” Myungjun hung up before Jinwoo could get another word in edgewise.

Jinwoo stared at his phone, confused but a little amused. He fixed himself a cup of coffee and set to editing some photos he’d taken of a sporting event the night before.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opened, and Myungjun sang out, with operatic clarity, “Hello my darlings!”

Minhyuk winced and covered his ears.

“Hello, Myungjun-ah,” Kihyun said without looking away from his work.

Myungjun bounded over to Jinwoo’s desks. “Where is it?”

Jinwoo held the box up.

Myungjun plucked it from his grasp and proceeded to tear into it.

“You could open that back in your own office, you know,” Jinwoo said.

“Eomma loves me,” Myungjun crooned happily. He beamed when he found a bottle of fancy face moisturizer, a t-shirt with the word _pizza_ written on it in big English letters, some pictures of people who Jinwoo guessed were his family, and then he froze.

Jinwoo peered over his shoulder.

It was a box set of Cha Eunwoo’s most recent drama. Jinwoo slapped a hand over it. He said, “It ended well. Turns out the prince was actually the only son of the deposed king. He didn’t want to rule, so the evil king abdicated, and his son took over, and our hero got the girl.”

Myungjun stared at him. “What?”

“You said you wanted to know how the drama ended. So - I read some blog posts and found out.”

“He watched the entire thing,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo glared at him.

Minhyuk drew an invisible tally score in the air with a smirk.

Jinwoo drew his hand aside, and Myungjun put the other items back in the box.

“Thanks,” Myungjun said.

Jinwoo smiled brightly at him. “Well - enjoy the gifts from your mother. And - do you want to hang out Friday night? We could do like last time, pork and soju and the noraebang.”

Myungjun looked startled, then pleased. “Sure.”

“Great,” Jinwoo said. “Meet you there after work?”

Myungjun nodded. “Will do.” He scooped up the box and headed for the door. “See you later.”

Jinwoo watched him go, heart pounding. Seeing all the light and joy drain out of Myungjun’s face when he saw just a picture of Cha Euwnoo had made something in Jinwoo’s chest tighten. Whatever Myungjun was doing, he was still struggling with the aftermath of his breakup, which had seemed quite sudden.

“Did you just ask him out on a date?” Minhyuk asked.

“What? No.” Jinwoo shook his head.

“Sounded like it to me,” Kihyun said.

“No,” Jinwoo said. “Just - he broke up with his longtime boyfriend a while back, and I think he’s still sad. I’m trying to be a good friend.”

“You mean you’re trying to be his rebound guy,” Minhyuk said.

“No,” Jinwoo insisted. “I’m not. That wouldn’t be right.”

Kihyun glanced at him. “I didn’t think Myungjun had ever dated anyone.”

Jinwoo just shrugged. “I don’t know the details. But I do think of him as a friend.” He turned back to his computer. 

“Well, have fun,” Kihyun said.

Minhyuk said, “It’s totally a date.”

Jinwoo ignored him.

Minhyuk said, “Can I come with you?”

Jinwoo frowned at him. “What?”

“Since it’s not a date. I like pork and soju and singing at the noraebang.” Minhyuk’s gaze was challenging.

Jinwoo said, “Sure.”

Minhyuk drew another tally mark in the air.

The next day, when Sanha dropped off another batch of proofs from the Busan office, Jinwoo said, “You should come to the noraebang with us on Friday night. It’ll be a lot of fun.”

Sanha considered. “Are you sure?”

“We see you so often, you’re a friend,” Jinwoo said.

Sanha nodded. “Okay. I’ll look forward to it.”

Jinwoo said, “Give me your number. I’ll text you the details.”

Sanha accepted Jinwoo’s phone and typed in his contact info, and then he waved and left.

Minhyuk stared at Jinwoo in disbelief.

Jinwoo drew a tally mark in the air and smirked.

* * *

Friday after work, Minhyuk followed Jinwoo down the street from the office to the little pork grill place where he’d taken Myungjun previously.

“This seems an awful lot like a date,” Minhyuk said. “You’re buying him food and booze and then going singing with him.”

“I’ll make sure Sanha knows you think so,” Jinwoo said, which earned him a glare.

When they reached the little street restaurant, Myungjun was already there - as was Sanha.

“You made it,” Sanha said, beaming - at Minhyuk.

Myungjun said, “I didn’t know this was going to be a party.”

Minhyuk cast Jinwoo a look. 

“I figured the more the merrier,” Jinwoo said. He smiled at Sanha. “I’ve never seen you in anything but your uniform before. You clean up nice.”

Sanha blushed. “Thanks, Jinwoo-ssi. I didn’t realize you knew Myungjun-hyung.”

“You two know each other well?” Jinwoo asked. He signalled to the ahjumma, who pointed to a free table for them to take.

“Obviously he delivers to their office too,” Minhyuk said. He paused and let Sanha past him to the seat of his choice, which meant Minhyuk was across from him. Minhyuk was sneaky but smart.

“Hyung and I were trainees together, but we both got cut because we were too short,” Sanha said.

Jinwoo caught Myungjun’s eye, arched an eyebrow. Myungjun shook his head. Sanha didn’t know about his relationship with Eunwoo then.

“Too short?” Minhyuk echoed, because Sanha was taller than all of them.

“I hit my growth spurt after I got cut,” Sanha said.

“He’s a really good singer,” Myungjun said. “So we’ll do awesome at the noraebang.”

“The point is to have fun, not do awesome,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk smirked. “He only says that because he’s a bad singer. Doing awesome _is_ fun.”

The ahjumma brought them all water to start. Jinwoo asked for beers all around as well. She carded Sanha, who dug out his ID and beamed at her, which didn’t really help his case because he was still round-cheeked like a child, but he was of age, so the ahjumma nodded and bustled away.

“Who’s in charge of the grilling?” Myungjun asked.

“You’re the oldest,” Sanha said.

“He is good at grilling,” Jinwoo said. “But Minhyuk’s the best cook I know - after his mom.”

“Don’t let _your_ mom hear that,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo said, “My mom’s kimchi is pretty amazing, though.”

“Did you get to go home for kimjang this year?” Sanha asked Myungjun.

He shook his head. “I had to work. No seniority. But my older brother went, so that’s what counts.”

Sanha nodded. “Same. My older brothers are more useful than me anyway.”

Myungjun gestured to Jinwoo and Minhyuk with his chopsticks. “How long have you two known each other? I’ve known Sanha since he was in middle school.”

“We’re cousins, so we’ve known each other since we were very young,” Minhyuk said.

“Cousins?” Myungjun tilted his head. “I don’t really see it.”

“Because I’m more handsome,” Jinwoo said automatically.

“Minhyuk’s visuals are no joke,” Sanha said, and then he ducked his head, blushed.

Minhyuk’s ears also turned pink.

Jinwoo leaned in. “Tell me more about how attractive you think Minhyuk is.”

Sanha looked surprised. “What?”

Minhyuk kicked Jinwoo in the ankle. He managed to keep a straight face, but judging by the way Myungjun laughed he’d seen Jinwoo flinch.

“So, soju at the noraebang,” Myungjun said. “Favorite songs. Go!”

Discussion turned to music and their widely varying tastes. Myungjun liked trot and Sanha liked easy pop ballads, but both of them agreed that they liked really sweeping emotional ballads, and FTIsland’s Wind was a must. They decided to make it a duet. Jinwoo liked a lot of old rock and metal, because his dad had been a drummer in a band, and the others mocked his old-man taste in Boohwal and Shin Junhyeong. Minhyuk liked a lot of American pop, like Justin Bieber and Harry Styles.

“Harry Styles isn’t American,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk rolled his eyes.

When the beer arrived, they toasted each other for a week of hard work, and then it was agreed: Minhyuk and Myungjun would share the duties of grilling the pork together, since Minhyuk was a reliably good cook but Jinwoo could vouch for Myungjun’s grilling skills as well.

Minhyuk eyed Sanha. “So you and Myungjun-ssi were idol trainees together?”

Sanha nodded. “Yeah. He has a great voice.”

“Sanha plays the guitar really well,” Myungjun said. “And he also has a great voice. Do you still busk?”

“Sometimes, on the weekends.”

Myungjun smiled. “I’ll have to come see you sometime.”

“We all should,” Jinwoo said. “Right, Minhyuk?”

Sanha shook his head. “No, you don’t have to -”

“We’d love to,” Jinwoo said. “And sometime you should come with me to one of Minhyuk’s dance performances.”

“Dance?” Myungjun asked.

Jinwoo nodded. “Minhyuk is very talented at things besides photography. He took ballet and tap dance as a kid, and he’s good at hip-hop.”

Sanha looked at Minhyuk with wide eyes. “Wow. We did dance training, but only for a couple of years.”

“Sanha was a better dancer than me,” Myungjun said.

Minhyuk swallowed hard under Sanha’s gaze. “Ah - Jinwoo-hyung can do some cool street dancing and breakdancing, too. We danced together when we were younger. Also he plays the drums, like his dad.”

“The drums?” Sanha asked. “Can you play a cajon?”

Jinwoo nodded. “My dad taught me.”

“My dad taught me and my brothers to play guitar.” Sanha smiled. “We should play together sometime. Do you still play piano, hyung?”

Myungjun’s gaze went distant for a moment. “Not recently. I don’t really have access to a piano anymore.”

Jinwoo felt his chest tighten. Cha Eunwoo played piano really well. Perhaps he and Myungjun had played together.

“I have a little electric keyboard you could borrow. No one in my family actually knows how to play it,” Sanha said.

Myungjun lit up, and Jinwoo wished he’d been able to bring a smile back to Myungjun’s face. “That would be awesome.”

“Call me sometime and we’ll work out a time for you to come pick it up,” Sanha said.

Myungjun nodded, and he looked considerably brighter. The first helpings of pork were ready, and Myungjun distributed them generously to Sanha and Jinwoo before putting more meat on the grill.

Jinwoo dipped some pork into the chili paste and put it on Myungjun’s dish. “Don’t starve yourself. We all worked hard this week.”

Myungjun met his gaze for a moment. “We all did. Thank you.”

With the food ready, talk turned to the kinds of food they all liked - Sanha liked spicy food that would just about kill everyone else; Myungjun was a lucky survivor of Sanha’s quest to find the spiciest tteokbokki in all of Yeoksam - and interesting restaurants they’d tried and their favorite homemade dishes. Through it all, Jinwoo was glad to see Myungjun smiling, his eyes bright. Jinwoo kept track of the way Sanha and Minhyuk kept glancing at each other when they thought no one else would notice, how they complimented each other and blushed a lot. Jinwoo was racking up the invisible tallies left and right and Minhyuk was too besotted to even notice. Jinwoo would figure out a way to let him know later.

Once the food was finished, they paid the ahjumma and thanked her, and they headed for the noraebang.

They took turns picking songs - first solo efforts, then duets. Of course, Myungjun and Sanha were singing FTIsland’s Wind. Jinwoo and Minhyuk picked Bang Bang Bang, because it was fun. Minhyuk and Sanha picked SHINee’s Replay, so Jinwoo and Myungjun agreed to do EXO’s Love Shot, because it had both fun vocals and a good rap part. Then Minhyuk and Myungjun agreed to do Guilty by Dynamic Duo, so Jinwoo and Sanha agreed to do Fake Love by BTS, because it wasn’t a night at the noraebang without at least one BTS song.

Knowing that all four of them could dance was one thing. Realizing that all four of them knew some of the same dances was something else. Jinwoo would have been content to shimmy his hips and shake a tambourine when others were singing, but when he and Minhyuk stood up to do Bang Bang Bang, they both knew the dance, so they just fell into it. Jinwoo was surprised when both Sanha and Myungjun jumped up and began to dance with them.

There were some missteps and stumbles, because the room wasn’t quite as big as a stage, and Myungjun and Sanha were used to doing this dance with people besides Jinwoo and Minhyuk, but there was something kind of magical about the four of them coming together as one.

Afterward, they cheered and jumped up and down. Even if their score wasn’t that great, because singing and dancing at the same time was hard, Jinwoo felt like a champion, because the four of them together had been awesome. Because Minhyuk loved dance the way some people loved food and sleep, he also knew the choreography to Replay. Sanha and Jinwoo also knew some of the choreography for Love Shot, and Myungjun’s cheers were deafening but also adorable.

For Guilty, Myungjun and Minhyuk even did the little dialogue bit at the beginning. Of course Myungjun had the girl part, and he was as dramatic as ever, but Minhyuk got into it too. At first he’d been showing off for Sanha, had been nervous, but with a few shots of soju all of them had loosened up, and they were having a good time.

Then it was time for Sanha and Myungjun’s duet, and for one moment Jinwoo wished he had a lighter, but he was entranced. Of course Myungjun and Sanha were good at harmonizing and blending, as they’d trained together, but had they sung together often since they’d left training? Because they sounded amazing.

Minhyuk was a dancer at his core, spoke with his body instead of words, and of course even he was swaying to the music, but Jinwoo couldn’t move, focused on Myungjun and Sanha’s voices. His eyes slipped closed, and he felt like he was wrapped in sweetness and warmth even though the song was sad.

When they reached the chorus, Myungjun’s voice soared.

_I need you_

_I love you_

_My broken heart calls you_

_I love you always_

Jinwoo opened his eyes. Minhyuk was swaying back and forth with his arms over his head, like it was a concert. Sanha had his head tipped back and his eyes closed, was smiling faintly, like this was a pleasant memory, and maybe singing with Myungjun was. Myungjun’s eyes were open, and his expression was pensive, and Jinwoo realized his eyes were filled with tears.

On the final chorus, Sanha carried the lyrics while Myungjun hit the high-note adlibs, and the way their voices twined was amazing.

Jinwoo burst into applause and cheers, because he couldn’t hold it in. Myungjun’s gaze fell on him, and he looked startled for a moment, and then he smiled, wide and bright, and the tightness that had built in Jinwoo’s chest loosened.

When it was over, Jinwoo jumped up and pulled Myungjun into a tight hug.

Minhyuk and Sanha were jumping up and down, rattling the tambourines and cheering, because Sanha and Myungjun had made a perfect score.

Myungjun buried his face against Jinwoo’s neck, and Jinwoo felt the dampness of his tears, and he had to swallow back the lump in his throat, but then Myungjun pulled back and wiped his face quickly.

“We still totally have it,” he said to Sanha, and they exchanged high fives.

Then it was Sanha and Jinwoo’s turn for Fake Love. As it turned out, Minhyuk knew all the choreography for Fake Love, and he went all out. Enough that Sanha stumbled and missed his notes a couple of times. Minhyuk was having too much fun dancing to notice, but Myungjun caught Jinwoo’s eye and raised his eyebrows, and Jinwoo nodded and smirked, and Myungjun gave him a thumbs up. Myungjun knew Sanha and Minhyuk liked each other, and he was supportive of it so far.

Because Myungjun was just as sneaky as Minhyuk, he picked EXO’s Love Me Right as their final song of the night, one for all four of them to do together, because not only did all of them know the choreography, but they also knew all the lyrics.

“Nine members, four of us, we can split the parts almost evenly,” Myungjun said as Sanha cued up the music.

“That is very convenient,” Minhyuk admitted.

They called out which parts they wanted to cover - Jinwoo and Minhyuk split the rap parts, and Minhyuk picked up a minor vocal part as well, because Jinwoo would freely admit that Minhyuk was a better singer than he was. Jinwoo felt that heady rush a second time, only it was amplified, the four of them moving together and singing together. It was something Jinwoo had only experienced with Minhyuk before, that electric feeling that crackled between them as they shared energy, looking at each other and moving around each other and moving _with_ each other. Jinwoo hadn’t felt this even when he’d jammed with his dad’s band as a kid.

When it was finished, they collapsed in a pile on the sofa, breathing hard and laughing.

“We’re awesome,” Myungjun said. “We could totally be an idol group.

“We are handsome enough,” Jinwoo said.

“And I’m finally tall enough,” Sanha said.

Minhyuk wriggled dangerously, snagged his glass of soju off the side table. “If Myungjun was too short to be an idol, then Jinwoo is _definitely_ too short to -”

“I’m not too short to beat you into submission!” Jinwoo squirmed out from under Myungjun’s comfortable warmth and pounced on Minhyuk.

There was a brief tussle, but all of them were exhausted, because they’d given those performances their all.

“That was fun,” Sanha said. “We should do it again.”

“We should,” Myungjun agreed.

“You still want to borrow my keyboard?” Sanha asked.

Myungjun nodded. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Jinwoo, who’d ended up on the floor with his head on Myungjun’s knee, tapped him. “Text me when you’re going to get it and I’ll help you. It’ll probably take two.”

Sanha hummed. “He’s right.”

Minhyuk said, shyly, “Also, Sanha-ssi, you should tell us when you go busking next. So we can support you.”

“And maybe,” Jinwoo said, “one time we could play with you.”

“I’d need to practice that keyboard first,” Myungjun said.

Sanha smiled. “I’ll tell you for sure. Here - let me give you my number.”

While Sanha and Minhyuk exchanged numbers, Jinwoo and Myungjun finished off the soju - there wasn’t much left in the bottles - and straightened the room up as best as they could. The four of them headed for the front door to catch separate cabs home.

“I had a really great time,” Myungjun said in a low voice to Jinwoo. “I know what you meant by it, and - I appreciate it.”

Jinwoo said, “I don’t really understand what you’re going through, because I’ve never loved anyone that long, but - I don’t like seeing you sad. You’re like sunshine. It’s not right, when you’re not happy.”

Myungjun bit his lip. “Dongmin used to call me that. His sunshine.”

Jinwoo winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s all right. When you’re dating someone like him, it’s easy to feel inferior. He was always nice to me -”

 _Except for how he dumped you,_ Jinwoo thought.

“ - And he’s a sincere person, but it was hard to believe him, sometimes. When he complimented me. Hearing you say that, an objective observer, I know it’s true.”

“I’m glad,” Jinwoo said, but realization curled through him. Was he an objective observer?

The first taxi arrived, and Minhyuk insisted Sanha take it home. Jinwoo insisted Minhyuk go next, because he was responsible for his younger cousin. Two taxis arrived at the same time for Myungjun and Jinwoo.

“Text me when you get home,” they said to each other at the same time, and Myungjun laughed. He’d said it to Sanha, and Jinwoo had said it to Minhyuk, because it was something he’d started saying as soon as both of them had cell phones.

“I will, I promise,” Myungjun said. “Thank you again.” He climbed into the cab.

Jinwoo waved and climbed into the other cab. When he got home, he paused to text Myungjun before he entered the door code and went inside. He was almost asleep when his phone buzzed.

 _Home safe._ The message had a smiley sunshine emoji with it.

Jinwoo smiled and fell asleep.

* * *

After that, it became a habit, to text Myungjun once a day and see if he was all right, and to go get food once a week, sometimes with Minhyuk and Sanha, sometimes without. One weekend Myungjun texted Jinwoo to tell him he was going to pick up Sanha’s keyboard, and did he want to get lunch first? Jinwoo said yes, and they ate at a kimbap restaurant before riding the train to Sanha’s place together.

Sanha still lived with his parents and two of his older brothers - the oldest was married - and he was glad to let Myungjun take the keyboard and free up some space in his bedroom. Jinwoo helped Myungjun carry the keyboard and its stand down to the bus stop, and then onto the train, and then over to Myungjun’s apartment, which was about the size of Jinwoo’s but further from the office, in a quieter neighborhood. Given Myungjun’s bright personality, Jinwoo had expected the place to be colorful and cluttered, but it was actually kind of - bare. Apart from a few framed photos of people who Jinwoo assumed were Myungjun’s family and some stuffed animals Jinwoo recognized from a night at the arcade, there were no decorations or mementos or pictures.

There was space on the bookshelves, though, where photos or decorations could go - or had once been, Jinwoo realized. Myungjun and Eunwoo had been together for seven years. Seven years’ worth of memories were gone. Jinwoo swallowed hard and concentrated on helping Myungjun.

“Let’s set it up here,” Myungjun said, pointing to a corner beside the little armchair he used to watch television.

Together they set up the stand, then the keyboard itself, and Myungjun dug a little folding chair out of his broom closet in place of a piano bench. With the creative use of some old architecture textbooks that Myungjun admitted he really only kept around for decoration and not reference, they managed to get the chair up to a reasonable height for the keyboard.

“So,” Jinwoo said. “You have to play a song for me now.”

Myungjun sat down in front of the keyboard and turned it on, rolled his wrists. “Fine,” he said. “But you have to drum for me.”

Jinwoo raised his eyebrows. “Do you have a drum?”

Myungjun considered for a moment, then found an empty plastic box. “Here. Use this.”

Jinwoo knew people had used more primitive objects to keep a beat, so he nodded and sat on the floor beside the keyboard.

“It’s been a while since I played, but I know what I’m doing. You’d better make me look good.” Myungjun played a test chord.

“I’ll do my best,” Jinwoo said solemnly.

“All right. Here goes,” Myungjun said, and started in on the first chord.

Jinwoo was focused on the sweetness of Myungjun’s voice, the clear piano notes, that he wasn’t really paying attention to the lyrics, and then he realized Myungjun was singing in English.

It took Jinwoo a moment to catch onto the lyrics even though, of the four of them, he was the best at English.

_Now the day bleeds_

_Into nightfall_

_And you’re not here_

_To get me through it all_

_I let my guard down_

_And then you pulled the rug_

_I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved_

Jinwoo looked up sharply, but Myungjun was lost in the song, concentrating on how his hands were moving. He sounded - heartbroken.

When he and Sanha had been singing at the noraebang that first night they all hung out, he’d sounded raw, but this controlled, careful performance was even worse. Jinwoo had heard the original version of the song, and the singer did sound pretty raw, but Myungjun’s voice was sweet and refined, partially from natural beauty and talent, but also from training, the refiner’s fire of idol training.

That he’d gone through with his first love.

His first love who’d left him after seven years.

It had been barely three months since Jinwoo had opened that box by mistake. How could he expect Myungjun to just bounce back like that?

Jinwoo kept the beat, but at the end he let it taper off, because even if he hadn’t put in any fancy fills, he had enough musicality and arranging skills to know to let the voice and piano carry the song at the end.

“It was just a pretty song I heard on the radio, when I first started to learn it,” Myungjun said. “Dongmin is really good at English. He studied abroad when he was young, to get good at it. He liked the song. He’s a better pianist than me, but he liked this song, so I learned it. For him. I didn’t even really know what the lyrics meant. Now I wonder if he liked this song because he’d already fallen out of love with me.”

Myungjun rested his hands on his knees and stared down at the keys.

Jinwoo set the plastic box aside. “I don’t know what your relationship with him was like. But if you want to talk to me about him, you can. Although I’m sure you have someone else you can talk to.”

“I have no one,” Myungjun said. “For seven years I had no one if I wanted to keep him. And now -”

“Now you have me and Sanha and Minhyuk.” Jinwoo took a deep breath. “I know there’s no way we can replace what you had with him. But -”

“I don’t want that kind of relationship again,” Myungjun said. “So I’m glad I have you three.” He smiled. “Although with how Minhyuk and Sanha are dancing around each other, it might just be you and me.”

Jinwoo wouldn’t mind that much. 

Myungjun started tinkering idly on the keys. “I do think if Minhyuk saw Sanha sing, he’d be even more attracted. Sanha’s really good, especially with his guitar.”

“Maybe we could persuade Sanha to sing a really cute romantic song about a confession,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun said, “I have a better idea.”

Jinwoo looked up at him. “Oh?”

“We should persuade Minhyuk to join Sanha in the performance of a really romantic song. I could play the keyboard and you could play the box drum and Minhyuk could help sing. Sing harmonies with Sanha, in fact.” Myungjun’s gaze was thoughtful.

“Got a song in mind?”

Myungjun smiled. “I do.”

* * *

“So we’re really going to do this?” Sanha asked.

They were gathered in Myungjun’s apartment, sitting around his little table, which was crowded with snacks and also the keyboard. Jinwoo felt tall for once, perched on top of the cajon he’d bought with his last paycheck; everyone else was sitting on the floor.

Sanha had his guitar across his knees. Minhyuk was in charge of the music, which was really the lyrics with chord notations scribbled above them, as well as vocal part assignments. Since this was for Sanha’s busking performance, he had the majority of the vocal parts, with Minhyuk and Myungjun providing harmonies, though each of them had solos for the bridge to offset Sanha’s vocals on the choruses.

“Jinwoo and I tried it out,” Myungjun said, “and it’s upbeat enough that Jinwoo will have an interesting part because he’s not singing any leads, but it has good parts for guitar and keyboard.”

“Day6 is a solid choice,” Sanha admitted.

Minhyuk peered at the lyrics.

“The arrangement is just a suggestion,” Myungjun said. “We can change it however you like.”

Sanha shook his head. “I like it. You were always good at arranging, you and Dongmin.”

“Dongmin?” Minhyuk asked. “One of your fellow trainees?”

Sanha grinned. “Yes. Of course, he uses a stage name now that he’s famous.”

“Are you sad, that you’re not famous like him?” Minhyuk asked.

“No,” Sanha said. “I mean, sometimes I see his face in advertisements or on television, and he looks like he’s having fun, but - there are things he can’t do, that I can do.”

“Like what?” Minhyuk tilted his head.

“Get drunk at the noraebang with you guys, for one. And also - date. I can date who I want.” Sanha nodded decisively.

Jinwoo said, “Who would you want to date?”

“Well,” Sanha said, “someone handsome, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Myungjun rolled his eyes.

“Someone who is thoughtful, and hard-working, but also knows how to laugh. Someone who’s passionate about what they do. Someone close to my age would be nice. I mean, Myungjun-hyung has been my friend for many years, but he doesn’t know any of my favorite cartoons or snacks or anything because we’re not...the same age.” Sanha’s gaze turned a little dreamy. “Someone with abs would be very nice.”

“Well, I’m ruled out doubly.” Myungjun patted his belly proudly.

“I know someone like that,” Jinwoo said.

“Who?” Minhyuk demanded.

Sanha looked at him, surprised.

“Besides you?” Jinwoo said. “Well -”

“Well we’re getting off topic,” Minhyuk said quickly, his cheeks bright red. He glared at Jinwoo, who smiled and shrugged unrepentantly. “Let’s see if this arrangement works, and if you’re happy with it we’ll keep practicing it. If not, we’ll rearrange things.”

Sanha looked back and forth between Jinwoo and Minhyuk, confused, but he nodded. “How about we listen to the song first - unless you already know it?”

“I don’t listen to much Day6,” Minhyuk admitted.

Myungjun had the song ready on his phone. He pressed play, and they all leaned in.

Even though Jinwoo wasn’t a great singer, he could harmonize all right, and he’d practiced with Myungjun, so the two of them sang their parts. Sanha knew the song pretty well, so he could sing his part as well.

Minhyuk bobbed his head to the beat - he could never resist a good beat - and his eyes widened when he reached the chorus. He shot Jinwoo another sharp look, but Jinwoo pretended he didn’t see it, instead smiled and nodded encouragingly at Myungjun.

“I like it,” Sanha said. He smiled at Myungjun. “You did a really good job arranging this. Shall we give it a try? On our own.”

“A pancake,” Myungjun said.

Minhyuk nodded. “Of course.”

“Pancake?” Jinwoo echoed.

“We say the same thing in dance practice. The first pancake is one you throw out. You do it no matter how bad it’ll be,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo considered. “Pancake. All right. I like it.”

“Since Jinwoo and I have practiced it, I’ll play and he’ll keep the beat. We should make sure the vocal distribution really works, though,” Myungjun said.

Sanha nodded.

Jinwoo counted them in, and Myungjun played the first chord.

Even though it was a clumsy affair - stumbling over the transitions from verse to bridge to chorus, missing cues, fumbling the lyrics - it felt like that time in the noraebang, when the four of them were united into something bigger than themselves.

At the end, Sanha clapped and cheered. “For a pancake, that was pretty good. I like it.”

“So you like this arrangement?” Myungjun asked.

Sanha nodded. “Yeah. But I want you to sing the last bridge with Jinwoo on harmony, and then Minhyuk, will you sing the harmony with me on the last chorus?”

Minhyuk nodded. “Yeah. How do you want to arrange the harmonies?”

Sanha hummed under his breath. “Can you harmonize by ear?”

“A little.” 

Minhyuk didn’t give himself enough credit.

Myungjun said, “I’ll record it with my phone so you can hear and tweak it later.” He caught Jinwoo’s eye and winked.

Sanha, distracted by shuffling the lyric sheet so Minhyuk could see it better, nodded. “That’s a great idea.” He smiled at Minhyuk. “Sing with me?”

Minhyuk cleared his throat.

Jinwoo counted them in, Myungjun started recording on his phone, and they sang.

_I’m serious_

_My eyes say that I like you_

_Why don’t you feel it?_

_My face is so obvious_

Sanha kept sneaking looks at Minhyuk, but he was focused on the lyrics.

They were both so obvious.

Jinwoo caught Myungjun’s eye and grinned.

Later, the two of them were in the kitchen, ostensibly heating up water for tea and coffee, while Sanha and Minhyuk continued to work on their harmonies.

“Do you think they’ll ever figure it out?” Jinwoo asked in a low voice.

“We’ll help them,” Myungjun said. “It’ll be our own little drama. Being invested in someone else’s love life will distract me from the disaster that is my own.”

Jinwoo said, “I’m sorry -”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault I stupidly hung onto a long-distance, mostly one-sided romance for seven years. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he found someone else it was easier to be with. I just - I hope he’s happy.” Myungjun swallowed hard.

Jinwoo reached out and squeezed his hand. “You deserve to be happy too.”

“I am, now that I have more friends.” Myungjun smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, how does Minhyuk like his coffee?”

“Iced,” Jinwoo said. He glanced over his shoulder.

Sanha and Minhyuk had their heads bowed close over Myungjun’s phone while they listened to the recording of them singing over and over again. 

Myungjun said, “We should give our drama a name. Or at least give them a cute ship name so when they start dating we can use it in the group chat.”

“SanHyuk,” Jinwoo said, after some consideration.

Myungjun brightened. “I like it! Operation SanHyuk is a go. Are you with me, Lieutenant Jinjin?”

“Yes, Captain Myungjun.” Jinwoo offered him a sloppy salute.

Finally, Myungjun’s smile was sunny.

Sanha said, “Hyung, is the tea almost done? I need it for my throat.”

“I’ll put some honey in it,” Myungjun called over his shoulder.

Jinwoo smiled to himself.

* * *

“Your career is about to skyrocket,” Kihyun said, pausing at Jinwoo’s desk.

Jinwoo, who’d been listening to a practice recording of the song he and his friends were planning on singing at one of Sanha’s future busking gigs, paused. “What makes you say that?”

“Your services have been requested for a pictorial with a popular fashion magazine and a very popular actor who will be the model.” Kihyun tapped Jinwoo’s monitor. “Check your email. If you don’t want it, a dozen other photographers will scramble over your cold dead corpse to take it.”

“Thanks for that image,” Jinwoo said. He opened the tab with his email and saw several incoming messages he’d ignored in favor of editing his most recent round of photographs.

He clicked on the one that was for a job proposal and scanned it.

One-day shoot. Really generous fee. With none other than Cha Eunwoo.

“No one pays attention to who the photographer is,” Jinwoo said. “I’ll take the pictures and they’ll be added to an article and people will care about the writer and the model but not me.”

“Well, no, not the thousands of rabid fangirls who will right-click and save your marvelous work, but other magazines and agencies will notice if you make him look especially beautiful and interesting,” Kihyun said.

“Also fanboys,” Jinwoo said.

“Also fanboys,” Kihyun agreed absently.

Jinwoo opened up a new tab and started an image search for Cha Eunwoo. He’d avoided looking up much about the man after he’d delivered that box to Myungjun, perhaps out of some weird sense of loyalty, but if he could study the man’s face and figure ahead of time, see what other photographers had done that worked and didn’t work or was overused, he’d have a better sense of what he could do for his own shoot.

Which he’d apparently decided he was going to do.

“So are you taking it?”

“It would look good for our firm,” Jinwoo said.

Kihyun nodded and walked away.

Jinwoo stared at Cha Eunwoo’s unbelievably handsome face and decided not to tell Myungjun about this assignment.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Jinwoo was in contact with the magazine and Cha Eunwoo’s agency, discussing the concept the magazine wanted for the shoot, what Jinwoo’s vision was, what was acceptable for Eunwoo’s image. The magazine wanted something sexy. Eunwoo’s agency wanted to make sure he looked clean-cut and pure. Jinwoo wanted to do something historical. Jinwoo wanted something better than Eunwoo looking pretty in pastel hanboks, which had been done a dozen times before because Eunwoo had played princes and lords and lost princes in historical dramas.

Jinwoo’s compromise was The Roaring Twenties. It would be a nice touch, especially since the end of the decade was approaching and they’d be in the Twenties once more. It would be avant garde. Plus men looked sexy in three piece suits, but those suits were classy. Eunwoo would look sexy and dangerous with slicked-back hair and a fedora, in shadowy poses like a noir detective. 

The magazine and the agency both loved it. Jinwoo was pretty pleased with himself.

And then they had to coordinate suits and sets and by the end of it all Jinwoo was sick of looking at suits. After the thousandth pinstripe suit he’d been asked to consider, he finally emailed both the magazine and the company and told them to just pick something Eunwoo would look handsome in and coordinate accessories - shoes, tie, cufflinks, fedora - so they were period-appropriate. Jinwoo hit the pavement like he was a rookie photographer all over again and scouted a good location, a house they could rent for the day, with an alley in back for street shots, plus a library they could make look like a PI office, and a kitchen where Eunwoo could look moody against the moonlit glow of tile.

Kihyun was right - this job would mean a lot for their little firm, and Jinwoo wanted to be good at his job, personal feelings aside. He couldn’t help but wonder what this shoot would be like if Myungjun and Sanha hadn’t been cut from training, if they’d maybe been part of an idol group with Eunwoo. What concept would Jinwoo have thought up for them? If Minhyuk were an idol, he’d look good doing the broody noir thing, but Myungjun and Sanha were too energetic, too sweet and lively for that. Sure, as idols they’d probably learn how to pout and be sexy, but if Jinwoo wanted to capture who they really were, what would be better?

Not that he was capturing who Cha Eunwoo really was, either. Everything was a show. Jinwoo knew that better than anyone else, knew that the beautiful pictures he produced were a split second in time that he’d managed to capture - and then edit.

Jinwoo still met up with Myungjun, Sanha, and Minhyuk to hang out and practice their song or just play video games or even just eat food and drink a bit, though recently it had just been Jinwoo and Myungjun. Minhyuk was spending a lot of time down in Busan with the Busan office, and Sanha complained that when Minhyuk was gone, the hyungs ganged up on him, but that was an exaggeration, because he could hold his own. 

Because Minhyuk was out of town so much, he was only vaguely aware Jinwoo had a pretty important project he was gearing up for. Kihyun wanted to keep it on the downlow until it went through and the photos were published. As much as Kihyun was a bit of an insufferable perfectionist, he was also bizarrely superstitious, and he didn’t want to jinx the project by getting too excited. 

Jinwoo didn’t want to rock the boat with Kihyun. And he didn’t want anyone to know what the project was either, because the news would make its way back to Myungjun, and these days Myungjun looked happy. Sunny. A brighter, sweeter, crazier version of himself than Jinwoo had ever known. Somehow Minhyuk hadn’t connected that first mis-delivered box of Cha Eunwoo paraphernalia with Myungjun, so it was easy for Jinwoo to make sure there was no mention of him when the four of them hung out. Sanha didn’t seem all that inclined to talk about his trainee days or his former fellow trainees in detail, and Jinwoo didn’t press for details.

On the day of the shoot, Jinwoo showed up to the house early so he could help with the set decoration and get the lighting crew in place. He and the lighting crew had been there for about an hour and had the PI office just about done when staff from the magazine showed up with a rack of expensive suits in tow, plus several containers of accessories like antique wristwatches, cufflinks, shoes, socks, pocket squares, ties, tie pins, and hats.

There were greetings and introductions, and then the magazine staff set up a dressing room for Eunwoo, which was really just a corner of the biggest room in the house that was partitioned off by screens, plus a desk and mirror repurposed into a make-up station.

Just as the magazine staff were finished setting up, Cha Eunwoo arrived with his staff - road manager, stylist, and press manager, who had a small handcam. Even though Eunwoo looked perfectly turned-out - and far more handsome in person; no picture had ever truly done the man justice - he had probably been up for hours already. Even though he was dressed comfortably, knowing he’d be wearing other clothes all day, he looked like he was modeling the jeans and t-shirt and high-end sneakers.

If Cha Eunwoo was even half as polite and sincere as press releases made him out to be, Jinwoo couldn’t blame Myungjun for hanging on with the man for seven years. 

Jinwoo bowed and greeted him. Cha Eunwoo looked every inch the flawless ice prince, the beautiful boy Jinwoo would have never even dared to make eye contact with in high school. As soon as he smiled, his face transformed. His eyes crinkled up into half moons and he looked heartbreakingly sweet. He bowed and greeted Jinwoo and sounded genuinely excited to be working with him.

“I looked up some of your other work, and it’s amazing. I really liked that shoot you did, of that old orphanage down in Jinju.”

Jinwoo was startled. “You did?”

Eunwoo ducked his head and blushed. “I always do research for my projects. It - makes me less nervous.” He patted his pocket, and Jinwoo saw he was carrying an actual notebook.

“I’m impressed,” Jinwoo said.

Eunwoo’s manager clapped him on the shoulder. “Our Eunwoo has always been a diligent student.”

Jinwoo nodded. “I promise I’ll do my best to make you look as handsome as you are in real life. I think up till now, no one has done you justice. I hope I’m up to the task.”

“We’ll both do our best.” Eunwoo nodded, and then the magazine stylists swarmed him. He bowed and greeted them. He was familiar with some of them, called them Noona, promised that he’d foregone washing his hair last night so it would be easier to style, that he’d only put on minimal makeup to make their work easier for them, just like they’d taught him to at his last shoot with them.

Jinwoo had come to this project expecting to hate Cha Eunwoo for stealing the sunlight from Myungjun’s smile, but he could see why Myungjun had loved him, why thousands of people the world over loved him even though they only ever got to experience him secondhand, through the foggy barrier of a camera lens.

It was good that Jinwoo liked Eunwoo. Hopefully they’d have good chemistry, would be able to communicate well and work together.

Jinwoo took a deep breath. Time to really get to work.

* * *

They broke for lunch - and so Eunwoo could sit down with the magazine’s reporter for his interview. After the lunch break, Eunwoo would change into a second round of outfits, and they’d move to some of the other locations for shooting. He’d be in a different suit in the kitchen, and then he’d on the street in a long coat with his hat on, every inch a noir detective, and then he’d change into a more casual outfit, shirt and trousers with suspenders and a cap to make him look more boyish, and finally, finally they’d be done.

Jinwoo ate in one of the small rooms, balancing his laptop on one knee and a bowl of ramyeun on the other while he studied the first round of shots he’d taken, looking for some favorites to set aside for further consideration.

The interview was slated to take at least an hour, so Jinwoo didn’t have to rush. He could actually relax a bit, clear his head. The staff had been great to work with, and honestly Eunwoo had been, too. He’d listened to direction, he’d asked for clarification if he hadn’t understood, and he’d been willing to try Jinwoo’s suggestions for poses or facial expressions or lightning concepts. The shoot was going well.

Still, Jinwoo was exhausted. He’d been up for a very long time.

He wolfed down his ramyeun and then set it aside, pulled his laptop up closer.

He tapped his phone absently, turned on some music.

He was humming along to that FTIsland song Sanha and Myungjun had sung that first time at the noraebang when the song cut off suddenly.

He glanced down at his phone, confused.

Incoming call.

Jinwoo tapped _answer_ and turned it on to speaker before he really looked at who the caller was.

“Jinjin!”

He froze.

It was Myungjun.

“Hey, are you busy right now?”

Jinwoo scooped his phone up and took it off speaker. “No, I’m having lunch. I have a while. What’s up?”

“I need your honest opinion on something,” Myungjun said. “Of the four of us, you’re the best at English.”

“I guess so.”

“Listen to this and tell me how my pronunciation is.”

This was an unusual request. It was true, though. Jinwoo had the best English. After him, Sanha was probably better at English grammar, but Minhyuk had better pronunciation. Myungjun was just...hopeless at English.

“What is ‘this’?” Jinwoo was intrigued.

“I’m emailing you the file right now.”

Jinwoo’s phone buzzed.

“Listen to it and call me later with your opinion. And information about where I need to improve. And maybe some tips on how to improve.”

“Okay,” Jinwoo said slowly. “Is this something I can listen to at work?”

“Of course,” Myungjun said. “What do you take me for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Myungjun laughed. “Fine, fine. Talk to you later. Enjoy your lunch! Eat something besides ramyeun.” And he hung up.

“Yah!” Jinwoo protested, but Myungjun knew him too well.

Jinwoo unlocked his phone and saw that he had an unread email, so he opened it. There was a file attached, called Song 1. Not a terribly descriptive title, but then this was Myungjun. 

Jinwoo downloaded the file and tapped on it.

He recognized the piano riff immediately. It was the song Myungjun had played for him, that first time Jinwoo went to his apartment after helping him pick up Sanha’s keyboard. The song was in English.

Myungjun must have practiced this song a lot. The piano accompaniment was flawless. Myungjun’s English pronunciation was miles better than before. He’d also found his emotion for the song. Myungjun’s voice was naturally sweet. Jinwoo could see why he’d been scouted for idol training; the sweetness of his voice was very pop-friendly. 

He’d managed to find the raw emotion for the lyrics without sacrificing the sweet quality of his voice. Part of the trick was dynamics, knowing when to swell a note, knowing when to draw the volume back in on itself so it was almost like he was sobbing.

Jinwoo could almost _taste_ his heartbreak.

He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat.

Then he took a deep breath and started the song again, reminding himself to focus on Myungjun’s English pronunciation.

Myungjun struggled in the places where most Korean speakers did, with the hard R sound and the strange TH sound, the short I and the harder terminal consonants. Jinwoo didn’t want to overwhelm him with advice. The best thing to do would be to clear up the sounds that made words hard to understand. Other words, as long as they were intelligible, were fine even if they were being obviously pronounced by a non-native speaker.

Jinwoo reached into his backpack and found a pen and notebook, and when the song ended he started it again, listening.

There was a spot where Myungjun had mixed up an R sound and instead gone with the L. In a couple of spots he was cutting words in half because they had multiple syllables and he was treating each syllable like a separate word.

Halfway through another repeat of the song, Jinwoo realized his notes were borderline incomprehensible, and he had a better idea. He found the lyrics on the internet, copied them down, and started the song again. He marked the words Myungjun was struggling with. On a second pass he’d make notes about what Myungjun should do to each word to fix the pronunciation. After that, he’d have to talk to Myungjun and prioritize. If Myungjun focused too much on pronunciation, he’d sacrifice other aspects of the performance, and the emotion he’d captured was breathtaking.

After who knew how many repeats, Jinwoo put down his pen and shook out his hand.

Then he closed his eyes and started the song again, because he just wanted to listen to Myungjun’s voice. He sang better than any number of idols Jinwoo had heard over the years. Would he have given Myungjun’s voice a second listen, if he’d heard it on the radio or in a music video? Or did he just like Myungjun’s voice because he liked Myungjun?

Jinwoo _liked_ Myungjun. Oh no. He opened his eyes. 

Eunwoo stood in the doorway, wearing a terribly blank expression.

Myungjun sang, _I let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug; I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved._

The song ended in a gentle piano trill.

Eunwoo said, his voice brittle like fractured glass, “Where did you get that?”

Jinwoo’s family and friends always made fun of him for being slow, for taking a long time to think and then a long time to respond. He didn’t like to speak without thinking. Right now he had to think fast.

All those years of lying to his parents about being gay finally paid off.

“This? Oh, a friend sent it to me.”

“A friend?” Eunwoo echoed.

Jinwoo nodded. “Yes. He sings and plays piano for fun. He wanted my opinion about his English pronunciation for this song.” He kept his expression calm and innocent. “He’s such a good singer. I’m terrible in comparison. I’m sorry - was I playing it too loud? I was making sure I listened well for him.”

Eunwoo said, quietly, “He sings beautifully.”

Jinwoo smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell him a professional singer thought so.”

“He’d be a much better professional singer than me.” Eunwoo’s gaze was distant. 

Jinwoo glanced at his watch. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes. I hope you ate well.”

Eunwoo nodded and spun on his heel, walked away.

Jinwoo watched him go, heart pounding.

He would never, ever tell Myungjun about this encounter.

* * *

In Jinwoo’s friendship with Myungjun, they’d only discussed Myungjun’s breakup a few times - that first time at the noraebang, and then at Myungjun’s apartment. Jinwoo went out of his way to avoid talk of Cha Eunwoo. Since Minhyuk wasn’t much for celebrities and gossip - though he enjoyed watching dramas - it was easy to do. Sanha didn’t talk about his trainee days often either, as far as Jinwoo knew. Sometimes he’d ask Minhyuk what he and Sanha talked about when it was just the two of them, but that was just to needle him, and he never pressed hard for details. It had become second nature to keep an eye out for posters or advertisements or billboards with Cha Eunwoo’s face on them while Jinwoo was out and about with Myungjun and to make sure Myungjun was focused elsewhere when they passed one.

Jinwoo could still remember how Myungjun had sung that song about breaking up with his first love, how he’d cried, how he flinched whenever he even glimpsed Cha Eunwoo’s face or heard his voice on the radio. Given how little Myungjun had said about the relationship, Jinwoo had assumed it was pretty much over before Eunwoo had ended things formally, that his feelings had faded long before he’d sent Myungjun the corpse of their relationship in a neatly-packaged and labeled box.

It hadn’t occurred to Jinwoo that Eunwoo might still have feelings for Myungjun.

Jinwoo cursed himself when Eunwoo’s manager called for yet another break. That was four since lunch had ended two hours ago. Eunwoo said nothing, stepped out for some fresh air. Whatever good working chemistry Jinwoo had had with Eunwoo was gone. He was a professional, would turn and pose and tilt his head as directed, but the light in his eyes that made him look passionate and alive was - gone.

Eunwoo’s manager bowed slightly, cast Jinwoo and the rest of the staff an apologetic look, and followed Eunwoo out of the house.

Jinwoo decided he wanted some fresh air himself. He set down his camera - he had one on a tripod, one handheld - and headed for the door.

“I remember why Jinwoo-ssi’s agency sounded familiar.” Eunwoo’s voice was subdued. “Myungjunnie always used to complain about Sanha mis-delivering packages to a photography office down the street from his firm. He only ever talked about Kihyun-ssi, though. They did their service together. I didn’t think that Myungjunnie might know other people in Kihyun-ssi’s office.”

Jinwoo stopped short, held his breath.

“Did Jinwoo-ssi say anything about you and Myungjun?” the manager asked.

Jinwoo let his breath out slowly. He should turn and walk away. Myungjun and Eunwoo’s failed relationship wasn’t his business. He was Myungjun’s friend and that was all.

“No. He knows nothing. He didn’t even mention Myungjun’s name, said he was a friend who sings. Just -” Eunwoo made a choked sound. “Myungjun used to play that song for me. His English is so much better now. He must have played it so many times. He -”

“You did the right thing.”

Anger sparked in Jinwoo’s veins. How was breaking Myungjun’s heart the right thing? After Myungjun had given himself entirely to his relationship with Eunwoo for seven years, foregoing close friends and probably even time with family -

“The death threats stopped, and that’s all that matters.” The manager’s voice was gentle, soothing. 

“If I were anyone else, crazy people wouldn’t have threatened him that way.” Eunwoo made another small wordless sound of distress.

“What’s done is done,” the manager said. “This is what’s best for him and you know it.”

Eunwoo said, “I miss him.”

Jinwoo withdrew, heart pounding. 

He headed back into the kitchen, where they’d been shooting.

“Jinwoo-ssi?” one of the lighting crew asked.

Jinwoo said, “Give them a minute.”

Eunwoo was a professional. An actor. He could probably pull through this.

But a few moments later, the manager returned. He explained that Eunwoo had a family emergency. At first it had just been a concern, but it had grown into a full-blown emergency, and they would have to end the shoot early. He apologized to the magazine staff and Jinwoo’s staff.

“Should we reschedule?” one of the magazine staff asked.

Jinwoo said, “I think I have enough material. I’ll edit what I have and send over some proofs and you can decide if we need to reschedule.” He nodded at the manager. “Please give Eunwoo-ssi and his family our best wishes.”

The manager eyed Jinwoo warily but nodded, and then he headed back outside to where Cha Eunwoo was quite possibly bawling his eyes out.

Jinwoo turned to the staff. “I’ll take some production shots so we can recreate the sets if needed, and then we’ll pack up. Thank you for working hard today, everyone.”

It was a Cha Eunwoo wearing suspiciously large and dark sunglasses who came to apologize to Jinwoo, thanked him for working hard.

“No need to apologize,” Jinwoo said. “You worked very hard today. Thank you for your time.” He bowed and offered Eunwoo his hand.

Eunwoo shook it briefly but firmly, and then he swept out of the house, his staff trailing behind him.

Jinwoo watched him climb into the black van and wondered what, if anything, he should tell Myungjun.

* * *

Jinwoo wasn’t stupid enough to mention anything about his assignment with Cha Eunwoo before Sanha’s big busking gig. It would be the first time Myungjun had performed in public since his trainee days, when he and his fellow trainees would be hired out to sing at events - like weddings - to make money, get experience, and also be evaluated for debut potential. Myungjun, for all that he was confident during practice, was nervous. He would never admit he was, but Jinwoo had learned to recognize the look in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth tightened and his hands curled into fists.

Not only was Myungjun nervous about the performance, but Operation SanHyuk was happening at the same time, and both Myungjun and Jinwoo had to be on their game to make sure it went smoothly - or abort if it looked like things were going sideways for whatever reason.

Sanha tended to busk on weekends in a park near the offices where the others worked. At the end of his delivery route, he’d change out of his uniform and then haul his gear to an open spot by himself. There were multiple designated busking spots, and Sanha and the other regular buskers had a schedule. Even if only they knew the schedule, performances occurred regularly enough that people out and about knew to expect something.

Myungjun and Jinwoo had convinced Sanha to sign up for a Friday night busking spot, because their and Minhyuk’s work schedules demanded it. As Minhyuk was still working out of Busan frequently, he appreciated the adjustment and didn’t consider whether there were ulterior motives behind the request. Myungjun and Jinwoo just wanted Minhyuk and Sanha to be able to go on a date after the gig if everything went smoothly. Myungjun insisted all of them dress up a little extra nice, because if they were going to be crashing Sanha’s performance, they ought to make him look good.

Jinwoo took some care selecting a sweater he knew made his eyes look bright. Even if Myungjun was the best artist as far as drawing and painting went, Minhyuk and Jinwoo had learned to have an eye for color over time, and they were both capable of dressing well. Minhyuk had an advantage, as his mother worked in fashion and had made sure he dressed well from a young age, but Jinwoo could hold his own. He was definitely the better-looking cousin.

Between the four of them, setting up gear went quickly, even if they’d needed more gear than usual. The designated busking spots had power sources, so they could plug in amps, mics, and the keyboard. While Sanha, Myungjun, and Jinwoo were setting up their instruments and making sure the mics were adjusted properly, Minhyuk warmed up the crowd by singing a cover of a Justin Bieber song a capella.

Sanha was going to sing a lot of his popular regular songs, a mix of covers and some he’d written himself. Jinwoo would be Sanha’s main accompaniment, though there were a couple of songs that Myungjun would be providing harmonies on as well. Their group number was the final one of the evening.

Jinwoo was counting his lucky stars that the Cha Eunwoo magazine spread wouldn’t be published till next month, because if Minhyuk had seen it, he’d have mentioned it to the others for sure, if only to use it to rib Jinwoo somehow.

Minhyuk was a fine singer, and when he finished, he bowed and received scattered applause from the small crowd that had gathered. He gestured expansively to Sanha’s open guitar case, where all of them had contributed a bit of money to get the party started, and then it was time for Sanha to begin.

Sanha introduced himself. The others agreed to stay low-key as the back-up band; they would do proper introductions at the end.

More people stopped to listen during the first number, a mid-tempo pop song. 

Jinwoo hadn’t performed music in public since the days of his high school band, and he was also nervous. Nervous about screwing up, nervous about embarrassing his friends. And nervous about Operation SanHyuk. Myungjun and Jinwoo had arranged the instruments and mics so Sanha and Minhyuk would be sitting together and sharing a mic when Minhyuk needed to do his harmonies. Jinwoo had his own mic, as did Myungjun. 

Jinwoo’s heart raced. He did his best to smile and nod at people who joined the crowd around their little performance space, but when he was worried he’d speed up to join his pounding heart, he closed his eyes and focused on the music, on Sanha’s gentle, husky voice.

They’d agreed on a set list beforehand, with space at the end of Sanha’s timeslot for some requests before the final number. 

Jinwoo opened his eyes when he heard applause, louder and more enthusiastic, and he beamed, drummed a little roll for Sanha, who bowed and thanked everyone. Then he peered at the set list taped to the side of Myungjun’s keyboard.

While Sanha introduced the next song, one he’d written, Jinwoo eyed Myungjun sidelong. He looked gorgeous tonight, wearing a soft sweater over a button-down shirt and slacks. His hair looked so sleek and soft that Jinwoo had to resist the urge to reach out and touch it. And Myungjun was smiling, a sweet, happy smile. He looked almost serene, compared to his usual energetic, almost manic self. Did performing make Myungjun this happy? Did he regret not making it as an idol?

Sanha’s opening chords dragged Jinwoo back to the present, and he forced himself to focus, picking up the beat halfway through the first verse.

On the stool beside Sanha, Minhyuk swayed to the music, his head bowed slightly so he didn’t distract people from Sanha, an old habit from their dancing days. Jinwoo swayed as well, careful to keep his balance atop his box drum. He’d missed the simplicity of making and keeping a beat, of sliding into some music and making it his own heartbeat as melodies and harmonies wove around him.

The song ended, there was even more applause, because the crowd had grown. Jinwoo knew there would be a sort of critical mass to the crowd, that people could or would only stand still for so long on a slightly chilly autumn evening like this, that the crowd would ebb and flow as people came and went, but it was gratifying, to see a pretty big crowd.

Jinwoo was surprised, on the next song, when he noticed some cellphones in the crowd, people filming the performance. He heard surprised murmurs when Myungjun leaned into his mic and offered up his harmonies. He sounded good. He sounded like an idol. Was he an idol? He was good-looking enough to be an idol. 

There was more applause that time. Sanha glanced over his shoulder at Myungjun and grinned at him, grateful.

By the third song, most of the butterflies in Jinwoo’s stomach had dissipated. They returned full-force on the fourth song, because this was the first song that Minhyuk would be doing harmonies for.

For all that Minhyuk came across as serious, laconic, and expressionless, he was a born performer, and he came alive, smiling and singing, leaning in close to mingle his voice with Sanha’s. Jinwoo heard some sighs from the crowd. Even if he was the better-looking cousin, he wouldn’t deny that Minhyuk was plenty good-looking.

Because Minhyuk was a born performer, he was flirting with the crowd, making eye contact, smiling and nodding, but he hadn’t made eye-contact with Sanha yet.

Sanha, Jinwoo saw, was blushing faintly, glancing at Minhyuk, but Minhyuk was focused outward, on the audience.

And then it came, the big chorus at the end, and they looked at each other.

Minhyuk’s smile faltered even though his voice didn’t. Sanha’s blush deepened but he kept on smiling.

At the end, Minhyuk was blinking rapidly, looking a little shocked, as if he was seeing Sanha for the first time.

Myungjun nudged Jinwoo and grinned. Operation SanHyuk was off to a very good start.

They continued performing, doing their best to engage with the crowd and support Sanha. Minhyuk was thoughtful, and he’d brought water bottles for them, which he distributed after a few songs - of course, the first one went to Sanha, and Minhyuk even opened it for him. It was a move right out of a drama. Jinwoo wondered if Minhyuk even realized what he was doing, or if he’d watched so many dramas that he only knew one way to romance someone.

By the time they reached the request portion of the performance, Minhyuk and Sanha were looking at each other more and more, locking gazes whenever they sang together. It was kind of like watching a drama unfold. Myungjun looked delighted.

Jinwoo was impressed that some people in the audience were regular enough observers of Sanha’s performances that they could ask for songs he’d played in the past, both covers and originals. Jinwoo was surprised when someone said,

“Have the keyboard player sing a song!”

Myungjun laughed, startled. Jinwoo hastened to intervene, because this was Sanha’s performance, but Sanha just glanced over his shoulder and smiled and said,

“Hyung, have you got something?”

“Well, just one song,” Myungjun said. “That I’ve practiced on my own.”

A few seconds too late, Jinwoo realized which song it would be, and he braced himself for the raw pain in Myungjun’s voice, but after Myungjun cleared his throat and settled his hands on the keys, the song he played wasn’t Someone You Loved. It was an old classic, Thorn.

Sanha nudged Minhyuk and murmured, too low for the audience to hear, “He’s always loved this song. This was his go-to for emergency performances when we were trainees.”

Jinwoo closed his eyes and let himself drown in Myungjun’s voice, swaying to the melody. This song was perfect for Myungjun’s voice, sweet and sentimental but also showcasing the power he had. His voice was deceptively light, and people probably assumed he couldn’t get any depth or gravitas to it, but he had passion. He must have sung this song a thousand times.

Jinwoo opened his eyes and watched Myungjun smiling as he sang.

People in the audience were swaying. A few people had turned on the flashlights on their phones and were waving them back and forth like lighters at a rock concert. Myungjun had been smart, to choose an older song, because older people in the audience would appreciate it. Sanha had fairly mature taste in music, due to his father and older brothers, but he was also very interested in new and popular music, mostly of the singer-songwriter variety.

At the end, Jinwoo raised up a cheer, and the audience did the same.

Myungjun rose and bowed, and he was beaming.

Darkness was falling, but he was still sunlight.

Of course, the audience asked Minhyuk to sing after that, and Jinwoo and Myungjun both made sure to cheer wildly when he was done. They’d been counting on Minhyuk really falling for Sanha after watching him sing. They hadn’t counted on the way Sanha was gazing at Minhyuk like a mooncalf as Minhyuk sang, once again acapella, since his song choice was on the spot.

Myungjun and Jinwoo exchanged looks. Here it was. The grand finale. The four of them singing together. Myungjun had been a bit hesitant, initially, that Sanha and Minhyuk would regret a decision made while they were high on a post-performance adrenaline rush, but after much discussion, he agreed with Jinwoo: their happiness was worth it.

Jinwoo counted them in. Sanha and Myungjun hit the opening chords at the same time, and -

This was the feeling from the first time they sang at the noraebang as a group amplified a hundred-fold.

Jinwoo felt filled with light and warmth as they wove their music together. His heart soared, and he turned to Myungjun and grinned. Myungjun grinned back at him, and for one moment, Jinwoo felt like their hearts were beating as one.

He carried the beat higher and higher till the final chorus, where Sanha and Minhyuk sang together, leaning in close, eyes locked, faces flushed.

Myungjun and Jinwoo picked up the background harmonies for the final lines.

_I can’t stop loving you_

_I can’t stop loving you_

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers.

Jinwoo and Myungjun jumped to their feet and bowed.

Minhyuk and Sanha were still staring at each other, eyes wide.

It was totally something out of drama.

The moment ended when Myungjun prodded Sanha in the spine. Sanha broke the stare with Minhyuk, and they scrambled to take their bows.

Coins rained down into Sanha’s guitar case, and Sanha thanked his audience profusely while Myungjun and Jinwoo hurried to get all the gear broken down and packed up. After a moment, Minhyuk remembered himself and moved to help them.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this,” Jinwoo said, wrangling the amplifier chords. “Go help Sanha.”

Sanha was kneeling beside his guitar case, scooping then money out and into a small jar so he could get his guitar in unscathed.

“You did well tonight,” Minhyuk said.

“So did you,” Sanha said. “I mean - thank you.”

“Thank you for letting us play with you.”

“You sing so well,” Sanha said. “I knew that from when we practiced, but tonight -”

“You’re amazing,” Minhyuk said. “The first time I heard you sing, I - but tonight -”

“Yah!” Myungjun hissed in a whisper. “Just date already!”

They turned to him, startled.

Myungjun made a shooing motion. “Go. Jinwoo and I have everything under control.”

“Hyung?” Sanha asked, confused and blushing.

Myungjun pointed. “There’s a nice cafe on the other side of the park. Go get some coffee and confess to each other, for heaven’s sake. Jinwoo and I will pack up the gear and get it back to my place till tomorrow. Have a nice date.”

“Date?” Minhyuk cast Sanha a nervous look.

Jinwoo sighed. “Myungjun, we were going to let them figure it out themselves.”

“I got tired of waiting. I’ve been drama-deprived for a long time and dramas always go so slowly! Real life should go faster.” Myungjun shrugged and kept on coiling the other amplifier cord.

Sanha and Minhyuk looked at each other.

They blurted out at the same time, “I like you.”

 _“Finally.”_ Myungjun smiled. “Now go.”

“Are you sure?” Sanha asked. “Those amps are heavy, and you and Jinwoo-hyung are -”

Myungjun frowned. “Were you about to make a short joke? Go.”

It was Minhyuk who nodded at Sanha. “Let’s go.”

Sanha smiled at him, and they walked away, walking close but not quite touching.

“We did a good thing, right?” Jinwoo asked.

Myungjun said, “Love is always a good thing. Until it’s not.”

Jinwoo’s chest tightened.

The performance was over. Should he tell Myungjun about Eunwoo? If not tonight, when? When Sanha and Minhyuk weren’t around, obviously. What about tomorrow? Would that be better? Or the next day? Although if Myungjun wanted to try to get back together with Eunwoo, time was of the essence. Eunwoo missed him. Eunwoo didn’t hate him. Eunwoo hadn’t cheated on him or anything else. They had a chance to get back together, right?

Would Myungjun still want to be friends with Jinwoo if they did?

Jinwoo thought of the gaps on Myungjun’s shelves that he’d slowly started to fill again, with the stuffed toys they got out of the claw machine at the arcade, and a bottle cap from one night when they’d all gotten spectacularly drunk together and gotten kicked out of a noraebang because Myungjun was too loud, and tickets from a concert they’d gone to, and pictures of each other, half of which had silly animal ear filters because Sanha was practically still a teenager.

Would Jinwoo still be able to be friends with Myungjun if Myungjun and Eunwoo were back together? Would he be able to stand by and be supportive of Myungjun being happily in love with someone else?

Jinwoo was still deliberating over what, if anything, to say to Myungjun, by the time they finished packing up the equipment and stashing it in the back of the van Jinwoo had borrowed from his older brother.

“Should we ask Team SanHyuk if they’ve kissed yet?” Myungjun had his phone out and was poised to type.

Jinwoo shook his head. “Let them be. We should get coffee or something, though. Before we call it a night.”

Myungjun nodded. They headed for one of the food trucks that dotted the park on the weekends and bought a couple of coffees. Then they sat on a bench together and drank, their breath steaming the air between sips. Jinwoo watched moths flutter in the glow of an overhead street lamp.

“Hey, Myungjun.”

“Yes, Jinwoo?”

“Hypothetically. If two people were dating, and one was super famous, and the other was not -”

Myungjun sucked in a deep breath.

“ - And someone was making violent threats against the non-famous person but sending them to the famous person demanding that they break up but not tell anyone why, and the famous person did it, do you think the non-famous person would want to get back together? If they found out. The famous person still loves them, of course.” Jinwoo was nervous. Was it too obvious what he was asking?

Myungjun burst out laughing. “That sounds like something out of a drama. In fact, I’m pretty sure I did see it in a drama. The one with Yeo Jingoo, where he plays a super hot robot boyfriend. I didn’t think you were the type to watch that kind of drama. Spoiler alert: the girl gets back together with the actor who dumped her after her hot robot malfunctions and essentially dies.”

“Thanks for that,” Jinwoo said flatly, because he had been planning on watching that drama. 

“I didn’t like it, though,” Myungjun said. “I think, if the actor had really cared about his girlfriend, he’d have been up-front with her about what was going on and trusted her to help him come up with a solution or maybe even separate for a time until the threat was handled. He treated her like a stupid child. She was an intelligent woman who was running her own business. Either he was condescending and she was well-shot of him anyway, or he was using the threats as an excuse.”

Jinwoo looked at him. “Yeah?”

“I mean - it’s not like I was writing the story. But since we’re talking hypothetically, if she were my friend, that’s what I’d have told her. Maybe he was protecting her, but there were better ways to do it, ways that weren’t condescending or selfish.” Myungjun nodded decisively and finished his coffee. “If you want to binge a Yeo Jingoo drama, _Crowned Clown_ is better.”

“I preferred _Orange Marmalade,”_ Jinwoo said. “Better bromance.”

Myungjun snorted. “You mean romance.”

“I do,” Jinwoo said, and smiled. He finished his coffee, and he took Myungjun’s cup, threw it away for him.

Together, they headed back to Jinwoo’s brother’s van. Since Myungjun’s apartment building had covered parking, they’d park the van there for security till tomorrow, when they’d bring the equipment back to Sanha. As they walked, Jinwoo spotted a poster advertising Cha Eunwoo’s next drama, a sci-fi romance where he played a hologram boyfriend. Jinwoo opened his mouth to say something, draw Myungjun’s attention to him, but he hesitated. He couldn’t protect Myungjun forever. And besides, he wasn’t around Myungjun all the time anyway. How effective were his efforts at protecting Myungjun’s feelings? Myungjun was an adult. Jinwoo should respect that.

So he said nothing.

He saw the moment when Myungjun noticed the poster, though, saw him flick a glance over it. That was all Myungjun did, though.

Relief unfurled in Jinwoo’s chest. Myungjun was finally healing.

* * *

Operation SanHyuk was officially a success. Jinwoo took every opportunity he could to rib Minhyuk about it at work, mostly by drawing an invisible tally in the air whenever he caught Minhyuk mooning over yet another selca from Sanha on his phone when he was supposed to be working. Myungjun contributed to the half-celebration, half-mocking by referring to both Sanha and Minhyuk in the group chat as SanHyuk, as if they were one person, because they were together all the time, if not in person then for nauseatingly cute video calls. 

They way they blushed and sneaked smiles at each other whenever Sanha came to deliver packages was downright adorable. That first Monday after the busking performance and their first date, Kihyun barely glanced up from his work and said,

“Finally.”

Sanha had blushed. 

Minhyuk had blushed harder.

Jinwoo had drawn an invisible tally mark for Kihyun.

Myungjun reported that he always ribbed Sanha when he stopped by the architecture firm too, and it was a good thing that the photography firm came after, so he could see Minhyuk’s face and cheer himself up.

Sometimes Sanha would bring a little snack and place it on Minhyuk’s desk before he left.

Jinwoo would say, “I’m getting a toothache. Kihyun-ssi, when can I get a day off to go to the dentist?”

Minhyuk would throw something at him, and he’d dodge and then award himself more invisible points.

“If you two worked so hard to get us together, why do you tease us so much now?” Minhyuk asked one day after Sanha’s departure.

Jinwoo shrugged. “Because it’s entertaining. You two babies are so cute and in love -”

“You’re only three years older than me,” Minhyuk pointed out. 

Jinwoo preened. “Three long years, full of wisdom and military service -”

Minhyuk threw a pen at him.

Jinwoo caught it and cheered.

“Jinwoo: one.” Kihyun licked his finger and drew a tally in the air without even looking up. How did he _do_ that?

“But seriously, we’re very happy for you,” Jinwoo said. “In fact, we’re going to treat you to dinner for your twenty-two day anniversary.”

At that, Minhyuk perked up. “Really?”

Jinwoo nodded. “It’ll be a nice meal, too. Not just grilled pork and soju at a food stall.”

Minhyuk smiled.

On Saturday night, they all met on the pavement halfway between the two offices, and they rode the bus together to a nearby shopping mall that had a nice Italian restaurant that Myungjun said Sanha had always wanted to try.

Because Jinwoo was a responsible adult, he’d made a reservation and ordered a small cake ahead of time. The hostess led them to a nice table. Minhyuk was a gentleman and pulled Sanha’s seat out for him, which made him smile and blush a little.

“Want me to get your chair?” Myungjun asked.

“I don’t trust you not to just pull it out from under me,” Jinwoo said, and sat down beside him.

Myungjun affected a wounded pout, but he sat down as well. He flipped open the menu and perused it. He and Jinwoo had agreed to split the bill for the kids. This was the first big relationship for both of them, and Jinwoo and Myungjun wanted to help them have special times.

“Do you know what you want to get?” Jinwoo asked Minhyuk. “And don’t just get the cheapest thing on the menu. You know I have a good job.”

Myungjun cast Sanha a look. “Don’t go ordering the most expensive thing on the menu just because.”

It was Sanha’s turn to look wounded. “Hyung! I would never.”

“You would,” Myungjun said.

“You know what?” Minhyuk said. “You’re right. I’m not going to let you be stingy tonight. After that very impressive pictorial shoot with Cha Eunwoo, you’re going to be really making it rain, so - I know what I want.” He closed his menu and sat back, expression satisfied.

Myungjun turned to Jinwoo. “You had a photo shoot with Cha Eunwoo?” His gaze was sharp, assessing.

Jinwoo felt unease prickle under his skin. “About a month ago.”

“You didn’t say anything,” Myungjun said. Then he pressed his lips into a thin line. “But of course you wouldn’t, would you?”

“It’s because Kihyun’s so superstitious,” Minhyuk said. “He didn’t want us to go around bragging about it until it was published in case it didn’t go to print for whatever reason.”

Sanha said, “We used to know Cha Eunwoo.”

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows. “We?”

Sanha nodded. “He was a trainee with us.”

“Kihyun never struck me as superstitious,” Myungjun said, and he was looking at Jinwoo and only Jinwoo.

“It’s because he’s so straight-laced and proper about everything,” Minhyuk said. “But this is one of the few things he’s weird about. I remember when I did my first big shoot with Seoul Nowon United, and I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. It was hard, because my little brother loves soccer.”

“Dongmin - ah, Eunwoo was the same way,” Sanha said. “So proper. Always following the rules. Was he nice to you?”

“He was good to work with,” Jinwoo said, trying to avoid Myungjun’s gaze.

“Did you talk to him much?” Minhyuk asked.

“No more than the usual - look left, the other left, smile less.” Jinwoo shrugged.

“You should see the printed version,” Minhyuk said to Sanha. “Jinwoo did a really good job.”

“With Dongmin - ah, Eunwoo as a model, I’m not surprised. He’s even better-looking in person. Right, Hyung?” Sanha nudged Myungjun. “Even when we were young and he had chubby cheeks, his visuals were unreal. They call him a face genius for a reason.”

“I was lucky the shoot turned out as well as it did,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Eunwoo-ssi had to leave partway through. Family emergency.” That was the official story. Jinwoo didn’t know if Eunwoo’s agency had issued any statement about it. Probably not. Even if they hadn’t, Jinwoo had no reason to say the man’s early departure was for any other reason.

“Pretty sure Kihyun bought three copies of the magazine, one for himself, one for Jinwoo, one for the firm - and maybe a fourth one so he could get the pages framed.” Minhyuk shook his head, amused.

“Kihyun-ah always did have fine attention to detail,” Myungjun murmured.

Jinwoo signaled the waiter to let him know they were ready to order. Through the meal, Myungjun said very little. Jinwoo could feel Myungjun _looking_ at him. Guilt churned in his stomach. Had he done the wrong thing, not telling Myungjun about what he’d overheard? Jinwoo did his best to keep the mood at the table lively, asking Sanha and Minhyuk about their favorite dates and fun things they’d done together. Not that Jinwoo hadn’t seen it all meticulously documented on their Instagram pages, but hearing it in person, watching their faces light up and the way they smiled at each other was better.

Near the end of the meal, Myungjun perked up a bit. He asked Minhyuk about all the standard anniversaries - a hundred days (couple rings or no?), the monthly anniversaries, upcoming Valentine’s Day and White’s Day - and needled him about being the older one in the couple, so he’d have to be more responsible.

“Are you saying that makes me the girl?” Sanha squawked.

“I’m saying Minhyuk is your hyung and he should make sure to treat you right,” Myungjun said virtuously, though there was amusement in his eyes.

When the cake arrived, Sanha was absolutely delighted, and Minhyuk was surprised and pleased.

Myungjun led the cheer congratulating them, and Jinwoo handed Minhyuk the knife so he could cut a slice for Sanha, and everything felt - not all right. But definitely better. Myungjun loved sweet things, and he was practically bouncing in his seat, waiting until it was his turn to get a slice. When Sanha finally handed him a plate, Myungjun pounced on it, eyes shining. He was adorable. He hummed happily when he took the first bite, and Jinwoo served himself a slice. He ate slowly, watching Myungjun. Jinwoo took lots of pictures with everyone’s phones - he was the professional, after all - and there were hugs and shared bites of cake and it was a happy occasion. Minhyuk had had a couple of prior relationships, but neither of them had gone well, because he and his boyfriends had been young and still afraid of who they were.

After the meal, Sanha and Minhyuk thanked Myungjun and Jinwoo profusely, and then they headed off to be on their own, as was only fitting for their twenty-two day anniversary. 

“So...should we call it a night? I’m old. And tired.” Jinwoo put his wallet back into his pocket and started for the bus stop.

“I’m older than you and just as tired,” Myungjun said. He followed Jinwoo even though they took different buses home. 

Jinwoo said nothing, kept his hands tucked into his pockets to stave off the chill.

“So. You did a photo shoot with Dongmin.” Myungjun’s voice was quiet.

“I did.”

“And he just happened to tell you why he broke up with me?”

“You sent me that song, to help with your English pronunciation. I was on my lunch break. He was on his. I must have played it too loud. He heard it.”

“Did he ask you about it?”

“All I said was you were a friend asking for help with your English pronunciation.”

“What did he say?”

“He said you’d make a much better professional singer than him.”

Myungjun nodded slowly. “I was a better singer, on a technical level.” He glanced at Jinwoo. “What makes you think he broke up with me to protect me from death threats?”

“After lunch, he was - out of sorts. He called for multiple breaks. I went to take a break myself, and I overheard him talking to his manager.”

“And?”

“He misses you.”

Myungjun said, “I miss him too.”

“Do you have a way to contact him again?” Jinwoo didn’t look at Myungjun. Guilt was settling heavily in his gut all over again. Minhyuk had been right. Jinwoo _had_ been trying to be Myungjun’s rebound guy.

“There are ways,” Myungjun said, his gaze distant, thoughtful.

“I hope, whatever happens, that you’re happy,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun looked at him. “I understand why you didn’t tell me outright. Kihyun’s superstition wouldn’t have stopped you, but I know you’ve been trying to protect me. And I appreciate it. But you don’t have to do that anymore.”

Did that mean he was going to get back together with his ex-boyfriend?

Myungjun said, “I can protect myself.”

Jinwoo nodded stiffly.

Myungjun turned and walked away, heading for his own bus stop.

Jinwoo sank down on the bus stop bench, hunkered down against the cold, and figured at least Minhyuk and Sanha were happy with how the evening had ended.

* * *

Jinwoo didn’t hear from Myungjun for a week. No calls, no texts. No visits for mis-delivered packages. Sanha and Minhyuk didn’t notice, because they were still hung up on each other. Myungjun didn’t answer any of Jinwoo’s text messages either, not the cautiously casual _How was the rest of your weekend?_ and the _Good morning!_ first thing on Monday, and the _Hope you have a nice lunch_ a few hours later _._ He didn’t answer the increasingly worried _Are you all right?_ and _I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner_ and a final _I didn’t mean to be condescending. I know you can protect yourself._

If Jinwoo kept searching the news for any mentions of someone stalking Cha Eunwoo or someone close to him, well, the photo shoot he’d done with Eunwoo had received good press, and it was natural that Jinwoo might keep up on Eunwoo’s press a bit. It was all about Eunwoo’s good looks, of course, but Jinwoo and the firm were both mentioned in all the articles, and it wasn’t wrong to enjoy his own press, was it?

His mother called him during his lunch one day and gushed to him about how well the pictures had turned out; she’d intended to show them to all her friends, but many of her friends had bought copies of the magazine themselves; was Cha Eunwoo as handsome in person? Then she’d lowered her voice and asked if Cha Eunwoo was his type, if she should ask around to see if anyone had sons or nephews who were like him.

Jinwoo, blushing furiously, assured her that Cha Eunwoo wasn’t his type. He found himself telling her, without meaning to, that his type was - short. Sunny. Sweet. Full of energy. Not too serious. A good singer.

“Jinwoo-ya,” his other said softly. “It sounds like there’s someone you like.”

“Well, his type is Cha Eunwoo, so -” Jinwoo cut himself off.

His mother clicked her tongue. “I’ll ask around, all right? Unless you’re using one of those dating apps? Minhyuk’s mother says her younger boy has one of those dating apps. Surely they make ones for boys like - like you?”

“I’m fine,” Jinwoo said. “I can find a boyfriend on my own, I promise.” He checked his watch. “I’d better get back to work. It was good hearing from you.”

“I love you,” his mother said. “Work hard. Eat well.”

“You too. And father.”

Jinwoo ended the call, finished his coffee, and headed back to the office.

* * *

“It’s getting too cold to busk outside now,” Sanha said. “So I’m playing at open mic night at this nice coffee house. You should come support me.”

He, Minhyuk, and Jinwoo were having lunch together at a small kimbap place down the street from the office.

“Minhyuk will be there for you,” Jinwoo said. “Isn’t he all the support you need?”

“But he’s my boyfriend. He _has_ to be there. If he’s the only one there for me, that looks pathetic.” Sanha pouted and batted his eyelashes. “Please, Hyung?”

Jinwoo said, “I’m also the maknae in my family. Those kinds of looks don’t work on me.”

“What about Myungjun?” Minhyuk asked. He dutifully refilled Sanha’s tea and even added just the amount of sugar he liked.

Sanha shook his head. “He hasn’t been answering calls or texts. He’s probably sick. With how loud he is you’d think he’d be attention-seeking when he’s sick, but when we lived in the dorms he’d just lock himself away till he got better. The first time it happened I thought he’d quit. Or been kidnapped.”

Minhyuk eyed Jinwoo. “Has he talked to you?”

“I haven’t heard from him either.”

Minhyuk eyed Jinwoo more closely.

Jinwoo said to Sanha, “I’ll be there. Text me a time and address.”

Sanha cheered. “Yay!” Then he sighed. “I hope Myungjun-hyung isn’t going antisocial again. He never hung out with me or the other ex-trainees when we’d get together, before. He really only started hanging out again after that time Jinwoo invited us all to the noraebang. I missed him. He was my first friend at the company, even though I was the youngest and he was one of the oldest.”

Jinwoo could imagine how Myungjun had probably had to be antisocial, if he wanted to keep his relationship with his boyfriend alive.

Sanha continued, “I felt bad for him. He came out to his parents after he quit training, and it didn’t go well with his dad, so he enlisted right away. Honestly, I think my parents only took my coming out as well as they did because my oldest brother is married with kids.”

“I’m sure he’ll contact us once he feels better,” Minhyuk said.

“Is there someone who’ll take care of him, though? If he’s sick and isn’t close with his parents,” Jinwoo said.

“He’s a grown man,” Sanha said. “He’ll be fine. We had to take care of ourselves a lot in the dorms anyway. Well, Dongmin would kind of mother us, but we took care of ourselves.”

Minhyuk shook his head. “It’s so strange to think you once lived with Cha Eunwoo.”

“And Myungjun,” Sanha said. “And Moon Bin.”

Minhyuk perked up. “Really? He’s such a good dancer.”

“He was in training for seven years before he debuted,” Sanha said. 

“What was he like?” Minhyuk asked.

Sanha shivered. “Scary. I mean, he was nice, but -”

“Like Jinwoo,” Minhyuk said wisely.

“Yah!” Jinwoo glared at him. “I’m _not_ scary.”

“See what I mean?” Minhyuk drew a tally mark for himself in the air.

Jinwoo rolled his eyes. _“Anyway,_ yes, Sanha, I will be there to support you at open mic night. You want me to bring signs to wave?”

“Would you?”

“No!”

Minhyuk laughed, but Sanha pouted, so Minhyuk had to kiss his pout away.

Jinwoo dug into his kimbap and hoped Myungjun had been sick and was recovering well. Or happily reuniting with Cha Eunwoo.

Either way, Myungjun wouldn’t be mad at him.

Jinwoo hoped.

* * *

When Jinwoo showed up to the trendy coffee shop on Friday night, two weeks later, it was packed to the gills with young, well-dressed college students, all of whom were sipping their beverages daintily, scrolling on their phones, and offering each other coy smiles. There was a small raised platform crammed into the corner against the massive window wall, which was probably the stage given that it was littered with mic stands and sound equipment. After three weeks of no one hearing from Myungjun - despite Jinwoo bringing him homemade kimchi jjigae from his mother, a few attempted visits from Sanha, and even a visit from Minhyuk - Jinwoo wasn’t sure that he wanted to get out and be social, but in a crowd this big, if he wanted, he could be invisible. He could enjoy his drink in silence, ignore everyone around him, but still pretend he’d gotten out and been social.

As Myungjun’s glaring absence grew - Sanha said he’d seen Myungjun at work after that first week, but he’d been distant, just like before - the guilt gnawing at Jinwoo grew too. But if Myungjun was being distant like before, when he’d been dating Eunwoo, that meant they were back together, right? After how miserable Myungjun had been, Jinwoo should be happy for him. A good friend would be happy for him.

But Jinwoo’s chest tightened whenever he thought of those gaps on Myungjun’s shelves that had slowly been filled with mementos of their time together, being replaced with the items he’d treasured from his relationship with Eunwoo, like rings and pictures and flowers and plush dolls from claw machines. Jinwoo thought of the stuffed Pikachu he’d won for Myungjun being crammed into a cardboard box like the one Eunwoo had sent Myungjun when he’d broken up with him and -

“Hyung, over here!”

Jinwoo was startled out of his brooding by a familiar voice.

Minhyuk was sitting at a table close to the stage and sipping at an iced tea. There were jackets thrown over the other three chairs at the table, and he glared at anyone who came too close.

Jinwoo managed a smile for Minhyuk - whose suspicious glances had increased whenever Jinwoo declined to be third wheel for one of his and Sanha’s dates - and waved back. Then he stepped up to the front of the line to order a drink. When it was ready, he carried it over to Minhyuk’s table. As he drew closer, he saw that Sanha’s guitar case was resting against the table. He recognized Minhyuk and Sanha’s jackets over two of the chairs. It was a moment before he recognized the third.

And then Myungjun said, “Wow, the bathroom was super crowded, even the men’s room! I hear it’s usually the women’s room that’s crazy busy. If that’s how it’s always like for women, no wonder they take forever.” He dodged nimbly around a gaping Jinwoo and perched in the seat opposite Minhyuk, sipped at his own drink.

“Myungjun,” Jinwoo said. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Sanha sent me a thousand text messages begging me to come, and because I’m a nice hyung, I’m here.” Myungjun beamed and preened, and he was like his old self, his happy self.

“It’s good to see you.” Jinwoo sank down in the seat between Myungjun and Minhyuk and didn’t look at Minhyuk, who was watching him closely. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I’m feeling much better, thank you.” The smile Myungjun offered Jinwoo was pure sunshine. 

Sanha appeared then, guitar in hand. “Hyung,” he said, tapping Myungjun’s shoulder. “Help me warm up.”

Myungjun said, “You were in training a whole year longer than I was. You know how to warm up.”

“Hyung!” Sanha made a pout.

Myungjun shoved his cup toward Jinwoo. “Hold my drink.” And he followed Sanha out of the crowded area. How they’d find anywhere private to warm up was beyond Jinwoo, but he curled a hand around Myungjun’s drink obediently.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Minhyuk caught Jinwoo’s gaze and held it. Then, very deliberately, he licked his finger and drew a tally mark in the air.

Jinwoo stared at him. “What’s _that_ for?”

“You _like_ Myungjun.”

“You don’t get a point for that,” Jinwoo said.

“Why not? You got all kinds of points before I confessed to Sanha.” Minhyuk raised his eyebrows, expression challenging.

“Because I knew you liked Sanha early on. You’re just _now_ figuring out that I like Myungjun? You deserve zero points for that.” Jinwoo shrugged and was secretly pleased with himself for how calm he was.

“That very first time I crashed your date at the noraebang -”

“It wasn’t a date. I invited Sanha. If anyone was on a date that night, it was you two.” Jinwoo smirked and sipped his americano.

“But -”

“But I wasn’t in love with him then. If you didn’t catch it when I fell in love with him, you get zero points.” Jinwoo pretended to reach out and wipe the invisible tally mark out of the air.

Minhyuk’s eyes went wide. “Love? Who said anything about love?”

“And that’s why you get zero points.” Jinwoo’s heart was pounding, but after weeks of not hearing from Myungjun and finally seeing him, Jinwoo felt giddy. Light. Free.

Minhyuk ducked his head and slurped at his mostly-empty iced tea with all the subtlety of a freight train. The other two were on their way back.

“I’m ready,” Sanha said.

“Don’t be nervous. You’re an experienced busker and a good singer,” Myungjun said. “They didn’t cut you because you were a bad singer.”

“True,” Sanha said, but he still looked nervous.

Myungjun rolled his eyes and shoved him into the seat on the other side of Minhyuk. “Drink some hot honey tea and get comfort from your boyfriend. I’m just your vocal coach.” To Minhyuk he said, “Do your job.”

Minhyuk saluted him obediently. “Yes, Hyung.” Then he smiled at Sanha and pushed a mug of tea toward him. “Drink up. You’re going to do great. I know you will.”

Sanha smiled and nodded and sipped at his tea.

Myungjun sat down beside Jinwoo and drank some more of his own americano. He said, quietly, “I missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jinwoo said.

“Shouldn’t you be saying you missed me too?” Myungjun looked at him.

“I did miss you, but -”

“But that’s all I wanted to know.” Myungjun smiled at him, a small, soft smile.

Jinwoo nodded. He said, just as quietly, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Myungjun’s smile brightened. “I’m glad I’m back, too. And that everything between me and Dongmin has been resolved.”

“Ah. So you talked to him?”

“A lot. We had a lot to talk about.”

“That’s good.”

“And now that I’m done talking to Lee Dongmin, quite possibly for the rest of my life, Park Jinwoo, will you go out with me?”

Jinwoo’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I like you.”

“I like you too.” Jinwoo’s heart started to race. “But -”

“But you’re not my rebound guy. I’ve liked you for a while. I think you’ve liked me too.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -”

“Why are you sorry for liking me?”

“I didn’t want to be one of those guys who is like a stupid second lead in a drama, who is nice to you because I want you to like me back.”

“I know that,” Myungjun said. “You were nice to me from - well, not day one. But early on. When you waited to give me the break-up box, that was nice of you.”

“Well, I was the idiot who looked in the box. I shouldn’t have. I -”

Myungjun put a hand on Jinwoo’s arm. “I’m not angry at you. I want to go out with you. Will you go out with me?”

Jinwoo said, “Yes.”

Myungjun’s smile turned sun-bright, and he curled a hand around Jinwoo’s and squeezed. Jinwoo squeezed back.

Sanha’s eyes went wide. _“Daebak._ Did you two just -?”

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Open Mic Night!” A college student was standing up on the stage at the microphone. She wore one of the coffee shop uniforms.

There were cheers and applause.

The college student continued. “We are pleased to have some of Seoul’s most talented amateur artists with us tonight. First up is popular busker Yoon Sanha!”

Sanha was immediately focused on the stage, his grip on the neck of his guitar white-knuckled. Minhyuk kissed him softly on the cheek, whispered something that made Sanha nod and smile, and then Sanha was climbing onto the stage.

He checked the tuning on his guitar one more time as he perched on the stool in front of the microphone. He plugged his guitar into the amp, and he leaned in, smiled and greeted the audience.

The first song he sang was a cover to get the crowd warmed up, and then he sang one of his own songs, a slow, sweet ballad.

As soon as he hit the first chorus, Jinwoo reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it. He held it over his head and waved it back and forth.

Minhyuk straightened up, startled. “Did you _make a sign?”_ he hissed.

Jinwoo grinned and kept waving it.

Myungjun turned on his phone flashlight and joined in. He caught Jinwoo’s eye and smiled, and Jinwoo’s heart soared. They weren’t just doing this together, they were doing this _together._

Sanha saw them and grinned, but he kept on playing, because he was a seasoned performer now. Minhyuk ducked his head and covered his ears when Myungjun and Jinwoo broke into wild cheers at the end of the song.

Sanha bowed his head gratefully and waved.

“And now, an old classic for which I need help from a friend. Myungjun-hyung, come up here.”

Myungjun looked startled. “What? Me?”

Sanha beckoned.

“But - what song could I possibly -?”

Minhyuk pushed Myungjun out of his chair. Jinwoo nudged him toward the stage.

Sanha said, “My hyung needs a bit of encouragement. Help me out?”

Jinwoo and Minhyuk raised a cheer, and others joined in. Myungjun climbed onto the stage, eyes wide. One of the staff handed him a small stool to sit on, and he had to sit in very close to Sanha because there was only one mic.

Sanha strummed a chord and said, “This is Lonely, by 2NE1.”

“Oh,” Myungjun said, and smiled.

And Sanha started into the song, a gentle arpeggio that was a sad minor chord.

Myungjun sang first, his voice sweet as ever, and there was scattered cheers and applause. Jinwoo made a heart with his hands and started waving it back and forth over his head. Minhyuk laughed at him, but then he joined in. 

A figure in dark clothes - another member of the staff? - climbed quietly onto the stage as Sanha started to sing. He crept close - and then he leaned into the mic, picking up a harmony for the end of Sanha’s part.

His voice was clear, pop-friendly, familiar.

Screams and cheers drowned out the music for a moment, which was probably a good thing, because Sanha and Myungjun recoiled so sharply they almost fell off their seats.

Minhyuk said, “That’s Moon Bin.”

Sanha had a hand pressed to his chest, looked shocked. Myungjun was also wide-eyed.

But Moon Bin reeled both men in for a hug, and they smiled and laughed. Someone else brought up another stool, and Moon Bin plopped down between them.

“I’m so sorry,” Moon Bin. “I was just so excited to see my old friends. We sang this song together when we were trainees.”

The crowd screamed more.

Moon Bin looked ordinary, in dark skinny jeans and sneakers and a warm hoodie, his idol-bright hair covered by a knit beanie cap. His smile was bright, happy. He was very handsome.

“I’ll just...start again.” Sanha cleared his throat. He strummed his guitar once more.

This time it was Bin who had the first part of the verse. It was amazing, how the three men harmonized so well despite not having performed together for years. Granted, Bin was a professional. Jinwoo held up his sign again and kept on waving, and Minhyuk turned on the flashlight on his phone and started waving.

By the end of it, most of the audience in the coffee shop had joined in with their phone lights, and when it was over, there were so many cheers. Bin made Sanha and Myungjun stand and take their bows with him, and then Myungjun stumbled off the stage so Sanha could finish his set. Jinwoo jumped to his feet to help him down. He guided Myungjun over to his seat. Myungjun sank down, looking a little dazed.

Bin vanished into the crowd like a shadow.

Sanha waited till the whispers about Bin died down, and then he started in on his final two songs.

When his set was over, Jinwoo, Minhyuk, and Myungjun were on their feet, applauding and cheering. Half of the crowd surged with them. Sanha took his bows gratefully, called out final thanks to _Bin-hyung,_ and then he was unplugging his guitar and hopping off the stage, face flushed, eyes bright with energy.

Minhyuk dragged him into a fierce, proud hug. Myungjun pounced on him from the other side. Jinwoo hung back till Myungjun dragged him in to join them.

“Wait, no, don’t crush my guitar,” Sanha protested, and he wriggled free, laughing. He knelt to put his guitar back in its case.

Minhyuk ducked away to get Sanha a fresh mug of tea. While he was gone and the next act was setting up, people came to congratulate Sanha. More than a few asked how he knew Moon Bin. Sanha demurred with surprising conversational agility. After he’d deflected multiple inquiries into his connection with Moon Bin, Sanha sank back in his chair with a sigh of relief.

“Maybe you should stick to busking in the park when it warms up,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun shoved at Sanha’s shoulder. “Why did you call me up there? I was terrified.”

“We can do that song in our sleep.” Sanha smiled. “Besides, I didn’t want to do this alone. I made you warm up with me for a reason.”

“You’re so sneaky,” Minhyuk said, but he sounded proud.

“You’ve busked alone plenty of times,” Myungjun pointed out.

Sanha shrugged. “This was - different. It felt bigger, somehow.”

“Much bigger, thanks to Bin-ah.” Myungjun’s expression turned wistful.

Jinwoo reached out, curled his hand around Myungjun’s under the table. He squeezed gently. “You sounded great up there. I’m really proud of you.”

Myungjun turned to him and smiled.

“I can’t believe you brought a sign,” Sanha said. Then he leaned in, lowered his voice. “And I can’t believe you’re dating now.”

He was grinning.

“What’s your ship name going to be?” Minhyuk asked. “We’re SanHyuk, so - you two should be MyungJin.”

“Obviously we’re Jinie and Junie,” Myungjun said. He giggled.

Minhyuk said, “I’m happy for you. I still think I deserve a point.”

“You deserve zero points,” Jinwoo said firmly. 

“Points?” Sanha asked.

Jinwoo opened his mouth to explain, but Minhyuk said, “Never mind. The next act is about to start.”

A girl with a cello was settling onto the stage, and there was polite applause.

Jinwoo felt happy warmth unfurl in his chest when Myungjun cuddled close to him, resting on his shoulder, and they enjoyed the performances that followed.

By the end of the night, they’d all spent a small fortune in hot beverages, enjoyed good music, and enjoyed each other’s company. Myungjun made a big point of marking his and Jinwoo’s Day One in the calendar on his phone, and the two of them posed for selcas and also photos that Minhyuk took. (“Being friends with professional photographers has its perks,” Myungjun said after admiring the pictures on his phone.)

After the final performance, Sanha stood up and stretched. “Now, we’re going on a date. You two should do the same.”

“We will,” Myungjun promised. He winked lewdly at Jinwoo. “Come back to my place.”

Sanha looked scandalized. “Hyung!”

“Just kidding,” Myungjun said. He smiled at Jinwoo. “What would you like to do?”

Jinwoo said, “Let’s go to the noraebang, just you and me.”

Myungjun nodded. “All right.”

Minhyuk shook his head. “That’s so unromantic.”

“It’s what we like,” Myungjun said, and looped his arm through Jinwoo’s.

Together they headed for the door.

“So, what songs are we going to sing?” Myungjun asked.

Jinwoo considered. 

“Jinjinjara, obviously,” Myungjun said, and Jinwoo laughed, startled.

He opened the door for Myungjun - and nearly ran into someone.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“I’m okay,” the man said, and after a moment, Jinwoo recognized him.

Moon Bin.

With Cha Eunwoo.

“Hello again,” Moon Bin said, lifting his chin from the upturned collar of his coat and smiling at Myungjun. “Remember this guy?”

“Kind of hard to forget him. His face is everywhere,” Myungjun said. “Hello, Dongmin.”

“Myungjun-ssi,” Eunwoo said politely, his expression neutral. Then he looked at Jinwoo, and recognition sparked in his gaze. “Jinwoo-ssi. What a surprise.”

“Ah - my cousin is dating Sanha, so we came to support him at his performance,” Jinwoo said.

Moon Bin raised his eyebrows. “You two know each other?”

“I’m a photographer,” Jinwoo said. “We worked on a shoot a while back.”

Moon Bin smiled. “What a small world. Say - do you have plans? I’d love to catch up. Sanha disappeared pretty quickly, but you’re here.”

“He and Minhyuk are going on a date,” Myungjun said.

Eunwoo raised his eyebrows.

“Minhyuk is my younger cousin,” Jinwoo said. He added, “Maybe you and Myungjun can catch up another time? He and I were about to go on a date ourselves.”

Bin’s eyes lit up. “Of course. Have fun.” He offered his phone to Myungjun. “Before you go, give me your number, and I’ll call so we can hang out sometime. Bring Sanha.”

Myungjun nodded and accepted his phone. “That would be fun.”

While he typed in his number, Bin said to Jinwoo, “How long have you two been together?”

“Today is our day one, actually,” Jinwoo said, avoiding Eunwoo’s gaze.

“Congratulations! That’s so awesome.” Bin grinned at Jinwoo. He seemed like a genuinely nice person.

Jinwoo was sure that Eunwoo was a genuinely nice person, too. 

Eunwoo said, more quietly, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Jinwoo inclined his head politely.

Myungjun handed back Bin’s phone, and then he reached out, curled his hand through Jinwoo’s. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” Bin pocketed his phone. “I’ll text you.” He waved.

Myungjun and Jinwoo waved back and turned to go.

Eunwoo caught Jinwoo’s arm and said, a little awkwardly, “Be happy.”

Bin looked confused.

Myungjun smiled gently and said, “Thank you.”

Jinwoo said, “We will.”

Together, they set off for the noraebang.

**Author's Note:**

> A.C.E does a great cover of Lewis Capaldi’s Someone You Loved.


End file.
